


A Good Bargain

by FlamingMaple



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Addiction, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 60
Words: 184,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingMaple/pseuds/FlamingMaple
Summary: Necessity never made a good bargain, and it is necessity that forces Bella to make an ugly bargain with Aro. The repercussions from this agreement are ones that she cannot possibly foresee, but with which she must learn to contend. New Moon AU. Bella x Edward. HEA.
Comments: 242
Kudos: 164





	1. A Bargain

Author's note for 2020-07-03: Many, many thanks to ladylibre and mariescullen on fanfiction.net for pre-reading this fic and being such amazing cheerleaders when I wasn't sure the premise worked.

Finally, this chapter has not been beta'd, so you may find errors.

Happy reading! 

~ Erin

* * *

“Necessity never made a good bargain”  
\- Benjamin Franklin  
 _Poor Richard’s Almanac_

\- 0 -

_Volterra, Italy - March, 2006_

Aro’s words were icy, for all the empathy they pretended to convey, and Bella shuddered as she heard them. “It pains me to pronounce it, but you _have_ broken the law, Edward, and I am obliged to grant your initial request, and for your mate as well.” In his seat, Aro sighed. “Demetri?”

Beside her, Edward didn’t gasp so much as become utterly rigid. Everything seemed to slow down so that Bella felt like she was watching the air move into Edward’s lungs.

In an instant, Edward was across the throne room, Demetri’s hands at his arms, flexing and yanking in a way that Bella understood too well. She remembered enough of the ballet studio and James’ end to recognize their fatal significance.

“No, no, no! Not him! Kill me instead! Kill me!”

Demetri’s hands ignored her, continuing to pull and twist. They only stopped when Aro’s hand rose, his palm flat in the air. This silenced all sound and movement in the room, Bella’s included.

Aro regarded Bella, his eyes subtly narrowed. Even with this tiny gesture, she understood his attention to be most profound. “Not that your life is yours to offer, my dear. Edward forfeited that the minute he told you what we are, but I find your offer to be . . . noble. Are you really willing to give up your life in place of his?”

“Bella, don’t!” Edward said.

They were going to kill Edward, and her throat constricted to produce the one, definitive syllable that would prevent this fate: “Yes!”

She watched Aro’s head tilt, graceful and yet mechanical. “Are you certain?”

“Bella—” But Demetri put his hand over Edward’s mouth. His eyes, however, continued to shriek at her, widening and panicked.

“Yes.” There was a quaver to her voice now. Edward wasn’t dead, she told herself. He couldn’t die, not when she’d just found him again. She tried not to think what he would be living _for._

“You must understand that I’m not asking you to die _for_ him, Bella. I’m asking for your life in exchange for his.”

It would not be a quick end for her, then. “I understand, yes.” Her voice shook as she said it. She could barely grasp it, but if it meant he lived—

“Let him go, Demetri.”

Edward was at her side, his hands on her shoulders, “Bella—”

“Jane,” Aro said, waving a hand towards Bella and Edward.

They both tensed, Bella expecting Edward’s suffering and Edward’s body clearly bracing for it, but Jane surprised them both by snatching at Bella’s throat.

Bella watched Edward freeze, as Aro spoke.

“Your mate, as you like to call her, has bought you a rather precious gift, Edward. I would hope that you would appreciate its cost and understand your new place as a result of this bargain. I would prefer not to have to use Jane or your . . . _mate_ ,” he chuckled over the word, “to keep you disciplined.”

Taking a first slow step backwards, Edward looked at Bella, swallowing, his black eyes full of some dark feeling she was afraid to name. He took eight more slow and backward steps towards the dais, taking his place beside Aro’s chair, where Aro reached out and took his hand.

Jane released Bella, and Edward stared, eyes narrowed with a hatred that made Bella quail. What had she done?

Aro exhaled loudly, his fingers clawed around Edward’s. “Marvellous. Just marvellous!”

Alice, who had been released by one of the other interminably grey-clad Volturi guard, now approached Bella, placing a cold hand over hers. “I will make my farewells, Aro, if you’ll permit me to say goodbye to my family.” She looked at Bella and Edward.

“You may. Of course, unless you wish to join us . . .” Aro waved his hand around, the gesture suggesting multiple possibilities.

Alice’s voice was even and most carefully polite. “Thank you, but no. I must return to my other family members. They will need to be appraised of these new developments.”

Aro paused before answering, disappointment flickering over his face. “I’m sorry to hear you won’t remain. You will always have a place with us, Alice, should you choose to return. You and your most intriguing spouse.”

Alice’s hand gripped Bella’s even tighter. “Of course. Your offer is very generous, thank you.” Alice’s voice seemed so calm in contrast to what Bella was feeling.

She wasn’t going home. She was staying here. But she was staying here with Edward, wasn’t she? They were both alive, weren’t they?

“What should I do with the girl?” Jane asked, her tongue teasing the corner of her lip.

“Put her in storage for now.”

Bella swallowed. Storage. That couldn’t possibly be good.

Alice’s hand gripped tighter.

One of the guard murmured something in Italian to Aro.

“Yes, we are all ready for Heidi’s arrival, aren’t we,” he said softly. “Say your farewells here, Edward. And then you can join us for supper.” He smirked in Edward’s direction.

Bella watched Edward look to Alice, who gave him a short nod.

It was at this point that Demetri approached Aro, placing his hand in his master’s free one. Aro’s giggle was girlishly high. “Ah, well! Isabella, you are fetching in so many ways, it seems.” He turned his attention back to Demetri, his voice all business. “You may have a period of time to experiment to such ends, so long as the outcome remains the same.”

Bella didn't know what he was talking about, and she wasn’t given time in the space to contemplate the unsettling response. Alice was tugging her out of the audience room, Bella stumbling over the iron grate set into the floor as she tried to catch a last glance of Edward. His violent stare seemed to follow her and Alice from the room.

Aro’s hand held Edward’s, and as Bella looked between Edward’s gaze and those two linked hands, her stomach twisted and sunk. _What had she done?_

“Hurry,” Alice whispered to Bella, her grip hurrying her from the chamber.

As Alice dragged her along the stone corridor, a competing murmur of voices grew to a more clearly audible babble. Led by a striking female vampire in a vibrant red dress, the oddest assortment of people traipsed in the opposite direction in which Bella and Alice travelled.

It was only then that she realized Demetri and Jane had come with her and Alice.

“Save me something good, Heidi,” Demetri called to the woman.

“Of course,” Heidi purred at him, winking.

Bella was not fast enough on her feet to miss the first terrified screams that echoed down the hall from the audience chamber.

An airy, “Oh,” escaped her, and then another one, these matched by the lurching steps she took, trying to escape the auditory nightmare that was brewing behind her.

“This way,” Demetri said, pointing to the left. The screams and shrieks were muted slightly by the distance, but still loud enough that Bella couldn’t pretend they were something else.

“They’re—” Bella whispered.

“Yes.” Alice’s voice was terse. She looked like she was trying not to breathe. They kept walking, the hallways shifting from ancient stone to filigreed wallpaper and then subdued panelling. Their destination was a small waiting room, its couches and frosted glass ones suited to a respectable modern office building. Several dark panelled doors stood to the sides, any business they obscured hushed by the plush carpet beneath their feet.

Bella thought all the things she couldn’t bring herself to say. Her breathing became more rapid, shallow breaths becoming shallower, her chest too small to hold all the air it needed. _What had she done? Edward was in there. Those people—_

“Bella, keep it together,” Alice said. Her hands were iron vices on Bella’s arms.

The words registered, but only as sounds. Bella’s breathing increased. The sounds of distress seemed to be growing louder.

Alice leaned in closer, her words a cool whisper in Bella’s ear. “I really need you to stop making those noises, okay?”

_She was?_

Alice remained close, smoothing Bella’s hair from the crown of her head down to her neck. “We are all alive, and considering what I saw happening, we are very, very lucky to be so.”

Bella was not feeling lucky at the moment. She didn’t think the people she’d seen walk into that room were lucky—what had she done?

Alice sighed, then brought her eyes to meet Bella’s. They were even more golden for all the ruby ones she’d seen in the last hour.

“I need you to remember who you are, Bella. And more importantly, I need you to remember who we are. We are your family. Though it may seem that we might be gone, we never have, nor will we ever abandon you.”

_Never abandon her?_

Bella wanted to scream at Alice. They had completely abandoned her. And if they hadn’t—

“You may wait upstairs,” a deep voice boomed. When Bella looked up, a vampire’s red eyes were pointed at Alice. Jane seemed to have disappeared.

Bella watched Alice stand and remove her scarf and sweater, draping them over Bella’s shoulders. It was then that Bella realized she was shivering, whether from shock or cold, she couldn’t tell.

“Remember,” Alice said, and then turned to follow the pointed finger of the vampire—Demetri, Bella realized—towards the elevator at the end of the hall. He didn’t follow Alice, though, staring instead at Bella.

The tall, blonde vampire took a step closer, leaving only an arm’s breadth between them. “Are you well?” His words were soft.

“I’m fine,” Bella said. She felt like she was going to dissolve at the slightest provocation, but the deadly creature in front of her was one she had no desire to provoke with a less than pleasing answer.

“Gianna?” Demetri called, still not looking away from Bella.

The woman’s voice was a low purr. Bella realized she’d heard her speak before, but had been so distraught as to make her voice nothing more than background noise. The sounds were more distinct now.

“Si, Signor?

“This is Isabella. She will be staying here for some time.”

“You wish me to put her into storage?” she asked, obviously incredulous.

“No.” He didn’t looked at her, still staring at Bella. “Please ensure she is comfortable. She will be living here now.”

Bella stared at him as he spoke. More words were beginning to filter into her consciousness, but mostly it was the visual that captured her attention. There was a tiny streak of blood that ran from the corner of his mouth to the edge of his jaw. Blood. Human blood.

Her breathing became rapid again, and then the woman’s—Gianna’s—voice called her name. “Isabella?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Come with me, please,” Gianna said tersely. Her English was accented and impatient. When Bella didn’t stand, Gianna snapped at her. “Quickly. I have work to do before sunset.”

“I will see you soon,” Demetri said to Bella. Then he turned to Gianna. “Be polite.” His words were a warning.

“Yes, sir,” Gianna said, voice suddenly a little wobbly.

Bella stood up slowly, watching Demetri turn and walk away. Her mind was still wrapping itself around the bargain she had made. Edward was alive. That was what she had come here to accomplish, and that was what she had done. The cost was immaterial.

Of course, that had been easier to say when she thought they’d simply kill her. What they planned to do with her, she had no idea, and as she followed Gianna, her mind provided no heartening possibilities, the several likely futures all as dark as the windowless hallway down which she trod.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	2. The Making of a Mate

Posted 2020-07-04

* * *

As Bella followed Gianna down the increasingly confusing hallways, she focused on taking deep breaths. It would not serve her to panic. She tried to orient herself in the windowless space, but the simple wooden doors set into the stone walls were unmarked and looked much alike. Yet, as they rounded another corner, another type of entranceway appeared: like the opening to a vault, the metal-studded doors were heavy and thick, their perimeter ringed with rubber strips, capable of creating an airtight seal.

Gianna moved quickly, not commenting on the intimidating doors. Bella paused only long enough to see that there were no handles or access points on the side into which they were moving. These doors were meant to keep things _in_ , not keep things out.

In the generous rotunda in which she found herself, Bella faced four sombre wooden-panelled doors. The space's high ceiling was lit with a modest chandelier, and a plush round maroon and gold-fringed carpet sat in the centre of the floor. It reminded her of a foyer to a themed hotel.

One where its occupants were more likely to be eaten than not.

"Here," Gianna said, opening the left-most door. Again, the lock had no mechanism on the inside.

 _You bargained with your life_ , she reminded herself. _It's hardly surprising to find yourself imprisoned._

"They don't lock them," Gianna said, watching Bella eye the handle. She shrugged. "It's not like they couldn't find you if they wanted to."

Bella had not had enough time to form any sort of concrete expectations about what would sit behind the door, but whatever she had imagined, it wasn't what greeted her. The room was flooded with natural light, tall, leaded-glass windows running up the left side of the space. These illuminated a large four-poster bed also bedecked in maroon and gold. A writing desk sat just beneath the window, and tucked to the right of the narrow entrance way was a small bathroom. Behind this was a small nook of cupboards and counter space, a little fridge humming away beside a sink. A love seat and coffee table sat between the entrance and writing desk.

"This room will be rather hot in summer, but pleasant in the spring." She eyed Bella, as if assessing her.

Bella could not fathom why any human would stay with the Volturi willingly, and she shivered at the thought of what had become of any who had. Gianna certainly didn't seem to think that Bella would be here that long.

"Here," Gianna said, opening a cabinet and pulling out a red foil-wrapped package. "You should eat something." She held it out to Bella, who took it somewhat reluctantly.

"Please, eat," Gianna encouraged her. "I don't need you fainting on me, hitting your head and bleeding everywhere."

Bella didn't think that would be very good either and opened the wrapper to reveal a chocolate bar. Biting into it, she found it dark and rich, the kind of chocolate for which she would have paid a lot at home.

Oh God, home. Her heart ached at the thought. What would Alice tell Charlie? Or would she? Would Alice even officially go back?

"And drink something, too," Gianna instructed. She cracked open a small bottle of water from the fridge, handing it to Bella. "I don't recommend drinking the tap water, but it's safe enough to wash with."

Bella drank the water and ate the chocolate, her stomach growling appreciatively. She was hungry.

"I'll get some food for you for the next few days, but if you can make a list of the things you eat, I'll order it in. Just keep in mind that the food will have to be prepared cold. They'll tolerate the smell of chilled food, but nothing heated."

She knew, Bella was realizing slowly. She knew what they were.

"You only eat cold food?" Bella blurted out. Her panicked brain had concluded that Gianna lived here as well.

Gianna's lip curled in distaste. "Of course not. I go out for my meals."

It seemed very petty to feel disappointment at this. Bella doubted she would be so free to roam. Yes, a petty concern, she decided. Probably something to do with shock she was likely experiencing.

She thought of Edward, and her heart clenched like a fist. _I'm so sorry_.

 _But you're alive_ , was the next thought. _And I don't regret that._

"I need to get back to work." Gianna stood with a hand on her hip, eyeing the door. "Do you need anything else?"

"Thank you, no," Bella said. The food seemed to be working. She felt marginally better—or calmer, at least.

With a last few breezy words about not having too many of the chocolate bars, Gianna left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Bella's hands still trembled. The empty wrapper rattled in her hand, and she turned around, blinking, realizing she was looking for a dustbin. Finding one in the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror. She was still damp from running through the fountain, and while the sugar had lessened some of the physical shock, it did nothing to stave off the exhaustion that was now jellying her bones.

Bella made her way to the bed, only kicking off her running shoes before crawling into the cold sheets. The crisp linens smelled clean. Her own body heat soon warmed the pocket around her, and a strange, almost death-like calm pulled her into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

When she woke, it was slowly and reluctantly. Her eyes felt heavy and her body groggy, as if she'd overslept. She blinked towards the brightly lit windows, rolling over to face the other side of the room where she met a dimmer view through a smaller window, this to an interior courtyard. From the light, she knew the sun was low, but she couldn't tell if it was morning or evening. Scanning the room for a clock, she gasped as a shape emerged from the shadowy entranceway, sitting up quickly.

"Good morning," Demetri saId.

Not human, was all Bella could think. The violently red eyes moved unnaturally quickly, his gaze sliding up and then down Bella's body. She shoved herself back against the headboard, her body rigid with fear.

"I did not know humans slept for so long," Demetri said calmly. He was holding a small basket in one arm. It smelled like warm bread and hot coffee, and while the greater part of her still tensed, her stomach betrayed her with a loud growl.

"How long have I been asleep?" Her cheeks warmed. There would be no privacy here. Her every sound would be heard. Her heart, her empty stomach. Her tears.

Her fear.

Her heart still beat like she'd just run from danger.

Not that she was out of any danger, she reminded herself.

"Almost fifteen hours," he said, stepping forward and setting the basket down on a small round dining table. In addition to realizing that Demetri had paid attention to her sleep, she also saw that the table was new. Its two simple chairs were cushioned with the same burgundy that adorned her bed. The Volturi liked to colour-coordinate, it seemed.

Before she could stop herself, a panicked giggle escaped her lips.

"What amuses you?" Demetri asked.

The thudding in her chest seemed abruptly loud, but Demetri's features remained smooth and unthreatening. If anything, the tilt of his head suggested curiosity.

 _He asked to experiment with you_ , her brain reminded her. The horrific events of the day before were clarifying out of her muddied thoughts. Fear and caution seemed wise responses to this creature.

"Everything is the same colour as your eyes," she said. Her gaze swept the room. Yes, burgundy everywhere, except for the spurts of gold. The colour of Edward's eyes. Her thoughts darted away from this remembrance, but not fast enough. The old ache in her midsection asserted itself.

"So it is," he said, chuckling a little. "It is our preferred colour, it seems. I had not paid it much mind." He looked down at his own clothes, a suit in stately grey, smoothing his hands down the jacket. Their cloaks seemed to be reserved for more formal occasions. Bella was apparently not a formal occasion.

"I have brought you breakfast," Demetri said. He did not ask if she was hungry, pulling out a small paper bag, and then a thermos from the basket.

"Thank you," she said cautiously. "Um, I need a few minutes first." She looked towards the bathroom, her eyes seeking permission. She knew better than to move quickly or unpredictably near a vampire.

"Of course," Demetri said. He waved his hands towards the bathroom.

The door didn't lock, but when Bella closed it, she noted the poplin dress that hung from the hook on its back. It too was burgundy, complimented by a subtly floral scarf of greens and blues. Undergarments that Bella was sure would meet Alice's exacting standards were tucked discreetly inside. Pinned to the plush hanger was a note: _Wear this today. More clothing will soon arrive for you. Leave your other clothes in the bag._ Folded neatly over the innermost part of the ensemble was a black trash bag.

So she was not to keep her own clothing.

 _It's just clothing,_ she told herself.

But it was her clothing, though, and her last physical reminder of home.

She put everything but Alice's scarf and sweater in the bag, needing to keep something of her past for whatever her new future held. She hid these items under the bathroom vanity.

While the shower functioned, it did so weakly, its water barely warm enough for Bella to tolerate cleaning herself. All the toiletries seemed to be unscented. There was no deodorant.

Bella dressed slowly, using the time to speculate about what Demetri could want her for. Aro had said she smelled good. James had, too. Perhaps he wanted to use her to test his restraint? That of others? Or to torture another vampire? Possibly he wanted to know why Aro couldn't read her?—

Her ruminations were interrupted by a quiet, but startling knock at the door. "Your breakfast grows cold, Isabella."

"I'll be right out," she gasped. She was still so on edge.

"Get a grip," she mumbled to herself, then clapped her hand to her mouth. They would hear everything. Including what she said in her sleep.

 _And there's nothing you can do about that_ , she told herself.

Bella stood and looked at herself in the mirror. In the dress, she appeared ready to go to work in a posh office. Perhaps she would assist Gianna?

Eyeing the high-heeled shoes that had been left for her, Bella briefly considered going barefoot, but she wasn't sure she'd be any safer with her feet clad in only the fine and slippery stockings. Putting one foot and then the other into the heels, she hoped she at least didn't fall walking to the table.

As it was, she needn't have worried. Demetri stood at the door waiting for her, looping her arm into his to escort her the few feet to her seat. She hissed in a breath at the pressure his arm exerted. It was like having her blood pressure taken with a concrete vice.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"You're holding me too tightly," she breathed out.

The pressure lessened immediately, and Bella put her hand to her throbbing arm, trying to keep the hurt silent.

Demetri did not apologize. "You look lovely," he said, holding out the chair for her to sit.

One hand still to the sore place on her arm, Bella approached cautiously, eyeing him. _A vampire with manners_ , she thought idly, knowing better than to believe they meant anything.

"Thank you," she said quietly, wondering if he'd chosen the clothing, or if Gianna had. And of what was to become of her.

He nodded. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Um, yes, please," Bella said, thinking it was wise to be polite. She didn't much like coffee, but at the moment she was cold, and Gianna's warning about cold food made her appreciate any kind of warmth she was offered. The stone walls held the night's chill, and while the dress' fabric was thick, it was not what she would call warm.

Demetri poured the coffee into a delicate cup, which he slid slowly across the table towards her.

Her first sip told her it was good. Strong and rich, but not bitter.

"Do you like it?" Demetri asked. He looked genuinely curious.

"Yes, thank you, it's very nice," she said, watching him watch her.

"There is bread and . . . " he frowned, looking at the tiny crock of butter.

"Butter," Bella finally said, wondering if he would know the names of food items in Italian, let alone English.

"Butter," Demetri repeated.

Trying not to feel like a caged animal, Bella buttered the crusty roll, grateful for its warmth on her fingers, biting into it and trying to savour it, rather than wonder if this was to be her last meal. She determined it was a very good one, if it was. Wiping at the butter that had dribbled down her chin, Bella eyed the basket, looking for a napkin.

"Would you care for more?" he asked.

"Thank you, no. I was looking for a napkin."

Demetri appeared confused. Bella grasped that he might not understand the word. She remembered the blood at the corner of his mouth the day before and stilled a shudder. "Um, something to wipe my mouth with."

"Ah, un' tovagliolo," he said. His hand dove into the basket and pulled out a linen napkin. He held it out to her across the table. Her thumb brushed his hand as she took it, and his gaze narrowed slightly, as if assessing something.

What _did_ he want her for?

"Is the accommodation to your liking?" he asked.

To her liking? "It's very . . . nice, thank you."

He acknowledged her words with a curt nod. "You were quite frightened yesterday, with cause. Most humans who enter that room do not leave alive."

No, they didn't. This time she did shudder. Was he trying to stress that she should be grateful? Had he taken offense at something she'd done? She rapidly revisited their conversation.

"Given your state, I wondered if you truly understood the bargain you made."

Perhaps she hadn't given offense. But what did he want? "Yes, I understood," she said carefully.

"Good. Then tell me what you understand to be the outcome of your bargain."

She tried to sound calm as she spoke, but the words came out very quickly, and very breathily. "I secured Edward's life with my own. He'll serve the Volturi, and my life is at Aro's disposal, to be used as he pleases."

"Your understanding is accurate. And until Aro determines your ultimate fate, I have asked his permission to . . . study you, as it were."

To study her? Reneé's words, that Bella was the most open of books, bubbled up in her consciousness. She wasn't much to study, and certainly not hard to read.

 _Not unless you were Edward_ , she thought.

Not that Edward wanted her. And not that she'd see her mother again.

Her tears were silent and unwanted, and she tried to hide them by wiping at the corners of her eyes with her napkin.

A larger, colder hand offered her a neatly folded handkerchief.

"Thank you," she mumbled, blinking rapidly and wiping at her eyes.

"I do not wish to harm you, Isabella."

"I didn't think you would."

His eyebrows rose.

"I mean, not just now, I expected . . ." she decided it was better not to say what she expected. After taking a deep breath, she said, "I was just thinking of my mother. I won't see her again. There are a lot of people I won't see again."

"This is difficult for a human, but not so hard for our kind. One's human memories are easily forgotten." He smiled in a way that might have been gentle, if it were not so fleeting and dismissive. "I do not know for how long you will need to wait for Aro's decision, but he was intrigued by your ability to repel the guards' powers. I cannot imagine he would waste such a potential gift."

Waste?

Understanding clicked.

Aro meant to change her. Maybe.

"Oh."

"You thought he had some other plan in mind?" There was a tiny smirk to go with his words.

She blushed in embarrassment. "I wasn't sure."

"No, he would not squander a potential gift. Especially one that vexes Jane so." He chuckled. "I fully expect you will be changed when it pleases Aro to do so. You need not fear death."

"I am not afraid of dying." It was true. She wasn't. "I think that's pretty easy. Living without the people you love is much, much harder." Didn't she already know enough of that? Out of habit, her arms curled around her midsection, squeezing inwards so that the emptiness inside was squished into submission.

"It is my experience that most humans are very much afraid of death in the moment they face it. You, however, were not yesterday. Partly, I suppose, because you were prepared to die when you came here, but there is more. You also believed you would be dying for your mate."

Bella's breakfast churned in her stomach. She nodded reluctantly. Though there was no denying this truth, she didn't like where this conversation seemed to be going.

Demetri's hand, which had rested flat on the table, twitched. For a creature that made so few movements, she wondered at the source of the action, her gaze taking in his utterly still posture and this one telling spasm. There were powerful feelings at play for him if he moved so.

"Edward is not your mate."

Bella stared at him.

He drummed his fingers on the table. "Vampires cannot mate with humans, not in the way vampires form such attachments with others of our kind. Humans are too . . . changeable for this bond to truly solidify. And even if such bonds were to initially form, I doubt this is such in your case, as a Vampire cannot abandon its mate. It is so contrary to our natures that the ability of a vampire to leave a lover indicates that there is no mate bond."

Part of Bella wanted to scream at him in denial. The greater and more defeated part slumped slightly in her chair. "I know," she whispered.

"And yet, you offered your life to spare his?"

It seemed he wished to press home the point of her selfish action. "Yes." She had.

"He left you. Why did you save him?"

Bella wiped at her eyes again. What had she saved Edward for? "Love isn't always mutual."

"No, it is not. I'm sorry that you should know this at such a tender age."

In an attempt at a lightness she did not feel, Bella said, "So you wish to study the foolishness of girls who experience unrequited love?"

His smile was small. "I do not lack for subjects in this regard, no, certainly not between humans. However, I do believe that mate bonds can _begin_ when one party is yet human, and that the bond will be made complete when that person is changed. And I believe that your transformation will allow me to prove this."

Bella frowned. Edward didn't want her. He'd made that clear enough. And while he might have tried to protect her yesterday, it was only out of a misplaced sense of guilt. She shook her head. "Edward doesn't—"

"Edward is not your mate, Isabella." He spoke softly.

"Then—"

"I believe you could be _my_ mate."

In the absence of all thought, which had vanished into shocked nothingness, Bella stared and blinked. When her mind begun processing what he had said, his fingers were twitching in an uneven rhythm on the table.

"We don't know each other," she said. The words, 'I don't like, love, or want anything to do with you were' were truer, but like all truth, more dangerous too.

"Vampires do not need to know one another to recognize a mate bond with another vampire, and, I suspect it is the same with a human, too."

Bella tried to fathom what he was proposing, at the same time struggling with a burgenouning sense of revulsion. He didn't think her feelings in this mattered?

She would not mince her words. She didn't know him, and she didn't want to be his mate. If Aro wanted her, he would keep her, but she wouldn't string herself along in some half-life, pretending to be or feel what she didn't. "I have no such feelings for you." Her gaze on his face felt shaky.

The smile was definitely condescending now. "Of course not, you are human, and we have just met. I expect it will take some time for your feelings to develop."

"And if they don't?"

"I believe it is a matter of wanting them to develop."

She swallowed. "Then you don't know what love is."

He chuckled. "You are so fearless. Unwisely so. And this makes you so very attractive, Isabella."

"My name is Bella."

He tipped his head to the side. "Your name is Isabella."

"I am called Bella by those who know me. If you propose to know me, then use my correct name." She felt like she was diving over a cliff with every sentence she uttered. She didn't want to be here at all, and she didn't want to be with him. He needed to understand where things stood if there was a chance of curbing his delusional proposal.

"As you wish, my _Bella_."

Her cheeks seemed to know no limit in how hot they could feel. She was not _his_ Bella. But it also wasn't safe to say so. A switch in tactics seemed wise.

"How old are you, Demetri?"

"I am close to a thousand years in this life."

A thousand-year-old vampire. The Cullens would be infants to him. She was a blip in his timeline.

She almost gasped at the next thought. If Edward had been so lonely in his hundred years, how much lonelier would Demetri be? Part of her ached in sympathy for him, more in hurt at Edward's direction, and then slowly, in a throbbing dread . . . for if Demetri was so wanting of a mate's companionship, his determination would be fierce.

"Does this concern you?" he asked.

She swallowed, mustering her courage. "Your age? No. Your ideas about relationships and how they're formed are entirely another matter." They were disturbing. She was no emotional ball of putty ready to be shaped to his desires. _This_ was the experiment to which Aro had referred yesterday. What if she refused to cooperate? She considered the likely consequences recalling the tone with which Aro had referred to placing her in 'storage'. Her gaze walked the room. She doubted this was the place to which he referred, and she mentally steeled herself for far more grim accommodation, thinking of the grimy tunnels through which they'd walked. But would there be other fallout?

Edward.

She thought of him. Would they punish him if she didn't cooperate? They knew she cared for him.

Demetri interrupted her thoughts with his laughter. "How refreshing to hear such honesty. Most humans simply scurry away when I come close. Very few manage to speak."

That was not hard to imagine, given what Bella recalled hearing the day before in the throne room. She rallied, taking another sip of her coffee. "I imagine if you imprisoned more of them in such plush accommodation, you'd have more conversations with your prey."

Here Demetri paused, angling his head again and laughing. "My prey? And imprisoned? No. You are free to roam the city, Isabella. Though for your safety I ask that you not wander beyond its walls. Is this not enough liberty for you?"

Bella looked towards the door.

"It is not locked. You are at welcome to explore the castle unescorted, though . . . I would ask you not do so when you have any open cuts or wounds. Not all of the castle occupants are so disciplined as I am. It would not do to have you become another's prey."

She shuddered, imagining such encounters and remembering James.

"As well, Edward has asked that he not have to see you."

It was like being punched, a feeling she'd known the last year in the woods beyond her house. "Of course," she managed. Her one, tiny, foolish and so far unacknowledged hope in this ugly bargain, that she at least might see Edward, was abruptly snuffed out. Struggling to arrange her features, she took in several slow breaths, staring at the table-top and the many whorls in its fine wood grain.

A cool finger brushed over her still-flaming cheek, pulling her from her ruminations. "Your cooperation in my plan will only help him, Bella. He doesn't wish to see you." She couldn't be sure, but it almost felt like there was an edge to his voice in the words, some unspoken threat. His voice softened. "But you are human, my Bella. Your feelings change so rapidly. You must remember that he left you. What do you hope to gain from a creature who would do so?"

 _He'd wanted to die when he thought I had_ , she rebutted silently. _But was it from guilt or love?_ Then she remembered Edward's dark and angry face as she had been marched away. If there had been love, there was none now. She'd seen to that with her choice.

She didn't answer his question. They'd discussed far more than she wished to about Edward, and there was no point in doing more of it. If he didn't want to be with her, then she couldn't be much leverage over him. That at least guaranteed his safety to some degree. It freed her to drive home her main point, which Demetri had been oblivious to. "I do not wish to be with you romantically."

The finger played up and down her cheek. "Of course you do not now, but you will soon enough." And with those haughty and presumptive words, Demetri stood. "We will talk later, my Bella, but for now, I will leave you to settle in and acclimate yourself under Gianna's tutelage. Ciao." He stood in a smooth movement, buttoning his jacket and then walking towards the door.

Bella stared after him, torn by the grief brewing in her gut and a steadily rising anger at vampire men who seemed to think they knew more about her than she did.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	3. Orientation

Author's note for 2020-07-05: Many thanks to chaysara over on fanfiction.net for beta-ing this chapter.

* * *

Barring Gianna’s arrival pushing a small cart of groceries, Bella was left alone for the remainder of the day. Despite what Demetri had said, Bella wasn’t sure where she could go or how she would get there. Without guidance, she knew she’d be lost in the building’s labyrinthine hallways, and after Demetri’s bizarre and disturbing visit, she didn’t want to encounter more of the creatures she knew lurked in the castle. 

So she stayed in her room, trying to think about what she’d learned and how she could avoid the attention of a creature whose attentions she wanted nothing to do with.

After forcing herself to munch through an aged and overly waxed apple, she sat down at the desk, scribbling her thoughts onto the paper she’d found in the desk. It helped her process the chaos of the last days and at least attempt to frame her thinking logically. 

She loved Edward, and he didn’t love her. She wanted nothing to do with Demetri, but he wanted to have everything to do with her. If she didn’t cooperate, she suspected she’d be imprisoned in ways more literal than figurative, and though she had initially thought him safe because he didn’t care for her, she wasn’t so certain of this.

She was a flustered four pages into her worries and circular ruminations when a knock at the door interrupted her. This was followed by the whoosh of it opening and Demetri appearing, a human man in tow.

“Bella, this is Dr. De Luca. He will make sure you are well during your stay here.”

Quickly snapping shut the book in which she’d been writing, Bella stood up, mildly alarmed by the abrupt arrival and what was potentially being proposed. She didn’t like doctors, and she liked them less when they were foisted upon her unnecessarily. “I’m fine, thank you. I don’t need to see a doctor right now.”

Demetri looked at her as if he had heard but then smiled condescendingly and spoke only to Dr. De Luca. “You have your instructions, yes?”

The man nodded, eyes widening slightly, clearly dazzled by Demetri.

“Dr. De Luca often works with our guests at the institute, Bella. He will take good care of you.” Then he turned and left, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

The institute?  _ Guests? _

Dr. De Luca set a large medical bag onto the coffee table. “How are you feeling today, Signorina Stefani?” 

Bella blinked at the strange name but didn’t show further confusion. “I’m fine, thank you.” It wouldn’t serve anyone to speak the truth, and it might endanger the man if she did. She wasn’t sure how much he knew of the Volturi. Demetri’s reference to ‘the institute’ was obviously a ruse. 

“I understand you’ve asked for a contraceptive shot as well as a general physical?”

She was sure someone had, but she had no idea what the contraception was for. She felt suddenly queasy, wondering, and also not wanting to wonder, what the birth control would be for. “I’ve never had a contraceptive shot before.”

“I see.” He began pulling supplies from his bag, his words punctuated by the crinkle of plastic. He looked over at his notes. “You’re seeking treatment for painful menses, yes? The shot will cause you to stop menstruating.”

“Oh,” she said in relief. When she and Edward had started seeing each other, she’d quietly asked Alice if this particular bodily function would be problematic. Alice had assured her that if anything, the smell would deter rather than attract vampires. The Volturi, it seemed, had sensitive noses. No food smells. No deodorant. No periods. She wondered if there really was something to the stories about garlic. Part of her wanted to go in search of it as replacement for her toothpaste.

The doctor reviewed the possible side-effects of the injection, none of which sounded pleasant. 

_ Not that you have a real choice, _ Bella mused.  _ But considering you’re living on borrowed time anyway, it doesn’t really matter.  _

“I’ll need you to expose your upper buttocks, please.”

Her face warmed with what she was sure was a stunning blush. 

The doctor had turned away, busying himself by pulling out a paper blanket from his bag, which he handed to her. “I’ll give you a moment.”

Despite the relative kindness with which she had been treated, Bella knew herself deprived of any real dignity, and so this tiny nod to her modesty made her more emotional than she cared to be. She was glad her back was to the man. The alcohol on her skin was cold, and the shot stung, a warm ache spreading up her lower back. She rearranged her clothes quickly, turning and looking down at her forearm, where she fingered the small scar left by Carlisle’s careful stitches from months ago. She wondered if he knew of her or Edward’s fate yet. Probably, she decided. Alice would not have lingered in Italy. 

“When was your last pap smear?” Dr. De Luca asked.

She tried very hard not to blush. “I’ve never had one.”

“You should, particularly if you’re sexually active.”

“I’m not.” She hoped this was the end of this line of questioning.

“If you’re on birth control—”

“I’m not sexually active.” Her forehead was hot now. 

Dr. De Luca made a note on his paper. “I see.” He moved onto the blood tests next, and Bella at least had the sense to sit down and rest her head on the table before he began.

“Do you have difficulty with seeing needles?” he asked, not unkindly.

“I have difficulty with blood,” she mumbled.

A man’s low and distant laugh bubbled up from somewhere, almost from beneath the floor. There very well could be a vampire lurking beneath the flagstones, she told herself. Her remembrance of the tunnels through which she’d entered the complex made her shudder.

Packing up his supplies, the doctor spoke briskly. “I’ll forward your results when the lab processes them. Do you have any questions?”

So many, but not for him. “Thank you, no.”

Bella was still rubbing her backside when Demetri returned. She eyed him warily. His earlier overtures left her nervous and uncertain in his presence. 

“Will you come with me, please?” He gestured to the door. As if she had a choice.

She supposed it was better to appear compliant than churlish. She nodded, going to follow him silently, but he held out his arm again, suggesting the linking of theirs. Reluctantly, she slipped her arm in his, and they walked out of her room. At least his grip was not bruising. It was tight but bearable. 

His voice was pleasing, as most vampires’ voices were, the low sweet tones almost musical, certainly bewitching. But his voice now was aimed to inform not beguile, and he explained to her the subtle differences in wood and stone texture that would allow her to find her way to the places she might wish to go. Today’s mission was to find the central reception desk from which she would be able to leave the castle.

First, though, there was paperwork.

While it was a forged name on forged paperwork, it looked real enough to Bella. Given the Volturi’s desire to operate without drawing undue attention to themselves, Bella hoped their paperwork would do likewise. She couldn’t imagine that having it go otherwise would be good for anyone involved, including herself.

“This will allow you to have a credit card and access to the local bank,” Gianna explained.

Bella looked at her nervously. She had no money to speak of. Her wallet had been left in the bag in the car that Alice had stolen.

“There is a small stipend provided for whatever you need, food, clothing, entertainment,” Gianna said, pointing to the places Bella needed to sign.

She would be Isabella Stefani for the time being, until a last name became immaterial. She stared at the identification Giana provided her, the picture a copy of the one from her driver’s license. She supposed they must have found it online.

“It is the same last name that I use,” Demetri murmured beside her. “I thought you might find it easier to have a surname that began with the same letter as your original last name.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, not missing the other significant linking a surname suggested.

“It means ‘crown.’”

“Oh.”

“Suitable for a princess.” His finger trailed over her hand.

Oh. My. God. If he wasn’t a vampire and completely lethal, this would be laughably ridiculous.

“Now,” Demetri said. “You shall return to your room and make yourself ready for dinner.”

For a moment, she wondered if it was his version of a joke, but nothing like humour traversed his face. As it was, her own face must have shown her uncertainty because he chuckled. “I think you would enjoy eating in a restaurant, yes?”

She nodded warily.

“Good, then.” With that, he grasped her forearm, turning it over. He licked his forefinger and touched her arm. “We are here. This,” and he traced a set of precisely angled lines, “is the path to your room. Let’s see if you can find it yourself.”

Where his finger had touched, her skin tingled. She gasped, staring at her skin. Edward had never touched her with his venom.

Behind the desk, Gianna chuckled and muttered something in Italian.

Demetri snapped at her. “Do not taunt her. If you wish to say something, then do so in English until she understands Italian.”

Gianna blanched and looked away.

Another female voice answered instead. “I doubt she’ll rival your slut-hood even by then, Gianna.”

“Jane,” Demetri said evenly, his voice full of warning.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll leave your pet alone,” Jane said, “though perhaps she prefers a woman’s touch to a man’s.” She smirked, eyeing Bella appreciatively and then promptly disappearing. 

Bella wished, as she had wished many times before, that her face’s circulatory system was not so nimble. She had a good guess as to what Gianna’s comment was about, and it wasn’t something she wanted to know, or worse, have to hear about in Demetri’s overeager presence.

“I shall escort you to your room,” Demetri murmured, “but I wish you to lead the way.” He gestured with his hand that she should begin walking. He held her paperwork in his other hand.

With her first step, she tripped over the lip of the carpet. 

“You are not accustomed to such footwear,” Demetri remarked, catching her.

“No,” Bella admitted. “I’m definitely more of a boots and runners kind of gal.”

“A gal?”

They were walking, he with a gentler, if not still unwanted, grip on her arm. She was trying to remember which way to go, mindful of the still-tingling map on her flesh. “It’s a colloquial term for girl.”

“You are a woman, not a girl,” Demetri said, adding, “I will purchase you boots, then, but you will not be running anywhere.”

Despite the circumstances, Bella smiled a little at Demetri’s literalism and then focused again on finding her way. It was a stupid expectation, but she hoped she could find a way out, more than physically from the building.

Demetri smiled at her when she picked the correct direction.

“Are you operating from memory or from my map?”

“A bit of both,” she said. Her arm still tingled faintly.

“Good,” he purred, tugging her closer to his side. 

She shivered, all positive feeling fleeing. He kept her close until they reached her room, opening the door for her. “There are clothes for you inside. A longer dress will be suitable for dinner.” Lifting her tensing hand to his lips, he turned her arm over, bringing his lips not to the back of her hand but to her inner wrist and kissing—then licking—it.

Bella tried very hard not to let her revulsion show on her face, but she needn’t have worried because his physical attention ended abruptly, and then he vanished, as only vampires could do.

She found herself standing in front of her door, slightly lightheaded and tingling in a not unpleasant way.

After washing off her hand and forearm, Bella vigorously rubbed both dry with a towel. As she leant against the wall, she eyed the table where her paperwork sat alongside a shiny new wallet and elegant handbag. They looked like things Alice would buy. Things Bella never would.

Shrugging off thoughts of Alice and trying to shake off the strange lightheadedness, Bella turned her attention to the wardrobe. The large, carved wooden closet was old, its dignified appearance suggesting it might take her to Narnia under the right conditions; she rather wished it would. Beside it stood a more modest set of shelves, which had stood empty before she left the room. Now they held a small selection of books. She stared at the spines:  _ Wuthering Heights _ , _ The Complete Works of Jane Austen _ ,  _ Romeo and Juliet _ . All texts that she’d often read at home. Who had put them there and how they’d known to pick such titles, Bella had no idea, but her mind filled with possibilities, some of them more frightening than others. The thought of someone associated with the Volturi being near Charlie—but no, she realized, it was likely much simpler. Aro would have read—and here she paused—Edward’s thoughts. The painful stabbing in her middle returned.

“Don’t be stupid,” she told herself. There was no point in pining over someone who didn’t want her.

Snapping her attention back to the bookshelf, she continued to scan covers and spines. There were new novels on the bookshelf, too, titles that she might pick for herself if she were so inclined. Nestled among them was  _ Rossault’s Beginner’s Guide to Italian _ . Well, she supposed she should learn the language. She would be here a very long time.

_ I’ll be here forever.  _

_ Or not. _

Pulling in a calming breath, Bella decided it would be better if she found something to wear to dinner, wherever that was going to be.

The wardrobe door opened silently.  _ Like a vampire _ , she thought. It seemed an absurd comparison, and she chuckled, shaking her head. For all the insanity of the last few days, it felt good to laugh, even a tiny bit, and she pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to hold on to that miniscule bit of humour. She was not successful and turned her attention to the wardrobe. Hung neatly from stately wooden hangers was an array of clothing, none of which she would have ever bought for herself. The impracticality and quality of the garments would put even Alice to shame. But as Bella thought back to her very brief and rapid sojourn through Italy, she had noticed that people seemed much more well dressed than at home. The only jeans she’d spied had been on tourists in the town square. While a few women had been clad in elegant trousers, the majority wore dresses and skirts, their shoes commensurate with the clothing. There had been very few flat heels. And there were none before her now. 

To the left were several long gowns in a range of colours, all of them designed to compromise either the modesty of her torso or legs. She chose the most modest, which left her upper half sheathed in a flattering boatneck bodice. Of course, this was at the expense of her leg coverage, which the floor-length dress exposed with a slit that ended mid-thigh. When she looked for pantyhose, she found garter belts and sheer, lace-topped stockings instead. These ended their journey halfway between knee and hip, their existence to be hinted at by the cut of the dress. Digging further in the lower drawer, she noted that each bra had a matching set of panties. None of them were cotton. They all seemed to be designed to cling suggestively, created less for function and more for appearance.

She had never felt more like a well-dressed piece of meat—albeit, an elegant one, she admitted to herself.

Fishing around in the back of the cupboard, she found a long, lightweight coat, which would at least keep her warm and comfortably covered. 

Dressed, she sat down at the table, trying to lose herself in the pages of one of her favourite books. She was almost immersed in the story when Demetri’s voice made her startle, dropping the book and losing her place.

“I apologize,” he said. “I did not mean to frighten you.” His finger brushed by her hand as he picked up the book and placed it back on the table. “The books are to your liking?”

Bella’s breathing was still ragged. “They are. They’re almost exactly what I have at . . . home.” The lump in her throat returned.

“Hmm.” He had stepped back, extending his hand to help her up.

She blinked away her emotions. He seemed intent on being kind, she reminded herself. She just didn’t know how far that kindness extended. 

“Demetri?”

“Yes, my Bella.”

She hid her wince at the unwanted endearment. She needed his good will. “What will my family be told about my disappearance?”

“That you will have met with an unfortunate bus accident along with several other tourists.” He seemed disinterested in this information.

She considered carefully how to proceed. “My father is a police officer.”

“Oh, yes?” Again, indifference.

“I’m his only child. He won’t just accept that story without investigating it himself. He’s very smart, and I would prefer he be kept far from this business and place.”

“What is your proposal, then?” He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. 

_ Don’t flinch _ , she told herself.

“Let me get in touch with him and say that I’m travelling. When my absence becomes more . . . permanent, then make up a traffic accident somewhere far away from here. It’ll give him some happiness that I’ve seen the world. In the meantime, I’ll tell him that I'm taking correspondence courses while I travel.” She hoped this would not be a lie. 

“Do you wish to study?”

“I do.”

Demetri nodded. “I will allow this, with Aro’s blessing, but your letters will be read before they are sent. I will arrange to have them posted from suitable locations.”

Bella let out a large breath. “Thank you. May I communicate with my mother, too? Or my friends?”

“If you feel it will smooth over the end of your human life, then yes.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“It pleases me to please you.” Demetri purred, taking her hand and kissing it. “But it grows late, and I do not wish for you to be hungry.”

Clad as she was in heels that made her nervous to even stand, Bella walked carefully, her arm again made captive by Demetri’s. He seemed to have learned how to do so without hurting her, and she didn’t tense as much at this unwanted linking.

Her balance was adequate until they walked onto the street, where she tripped almost immediately. She didn’t fall, supported as she was, but after four more steps she stumbled again.

“Are you unwell?” Demetri asked. His face was a study in serious concern.

“No, I’m—” She sighed. “I’m just not used to walking in high heels.” The cobblestones weren’t helping. 

“Then we will remedy this.” Without preamble, he swept an arm under her legs, leaving her breathless with shock as he carried her down the street.

“Don’t you think this will attract unnecessary attention?” she whispered. She didn’t like being close to him, and she tensed against the contact their bodies made.

“Absolutely not.” His expression communicated near-derision, as if she’d suggested the moon was made of tapioca.

A few minutes later, they stood in front of a shoe store. An elderly man was turning out the lights. Demetri barked at him in rapid Italian, and the man immediately flicked the switches back on. After a few more staccato instructions, the man returned with a stack of shoe boxes, all of them containing—bliss!—flat or low-heeled shoes. 

After trying on several pairs, Bella pointed to the one set that seemed the most practical.

“Are the others not comfortable?” Demetri asked, frowning.

“No, they’re fine. I just need the one pair.”

“Tch!” he said, waving his hand at the assembled stack and speaking to the proprietor in Italian. He put all of the boxes on the counter by the till. “And boots,” Demetri murmured.

In under ten minutes, Bella was the mildly astonished owner of several pairs of what appeared to be very fine Italian shoes and boots, all of them comfortable and less lethal with their lack of heel height.

“They will be delivered while we are out,” Demetri assured her as they left.

Strange, Bella decided. Gratitude and resentment—but she could at least walk.

And maybe run.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	4. Friendship

A/N for 2020-07-06: Many, many thanks to chaysara over on fanfiction.net for beta-ing this chapter and for teaching me the difference between the use of shone / shine!

Several readers have asked if we'll hear from Edward in this story, to which the answer is: yes, in chapter 7. However, most of the story will be from Bella's perspective.

Cheers,  
Erin

* * *

Bella supposed that she shouldn't be surprised that Demetri had taken her to an Italian restaurant, or she supposed, just a restaurant in Italy, but she was. It did say Italian cuisine in English on the menu. Definitely something of a tourist trap and a very pricey one at that. But the food that waiters carried to tables with genteel flourishes was beautifully presented, each an art piece waiting to be devoured.

A bit like her. The errant thought made Bella glance down momentarily, collecting herself. No, she said silently. Demetri hadn't expressed interest in . . . drinking her, just in . . . having her as his own.

She wasn't sure which was worse.

When the waiter poured their wine, he turned to Demetri. "Are you ready to order, sir?"

"Si," Demetri said. Then he promptly ordered for himself, and to her surprise, for Bella.

The waiter nodded and disappeared.

"Is the wine to your liking?" Demetri asked her.

She hadn't tried any of it yet. "I'm not sure."

"Please do. I'd like to know if I've chosen correctly."

She took a small sip. "It's very nice, thank you." It was red and wet, and that was where her palate ended.

"Good," he said, smiling a little. "I hope my meal choices are also to your liking."

She gave him a polite smile, fingering the blunt edge of her cutlery. She wasn't sure how to approach small talk with him, and despite the private corner in which they sat, she didn't feel it was private enough to discuss the many questions she had about her current or future circumstances.

It was, however, suitable enough a place to broach the topic that made her skin crawl.

"Demetri," she began, pausing for a breath, "I—"

"Yes, my Bella?"

She gritted her teeth. That particular phrase on Demetri's lips was as endearing as a rattlesnake's hiss.

"What do you know of human . . . _courtship_?" Given the way he spoke and behaved, she doubted the word 'dating' meant anything to him beyond the appellation of a point in time.

"A great deal," he said. "To what particular aspect are you referring?"

" _How_ romantic relationships are formed." How _slowly_ they were formed.

"Typically, a man makes his intentions known to the woman who holds his interest or to her father or guardian. He courts her and wins her affection." He shrugged as if this were obvious and as if the woman's affections in the matter were irrelevant.

Clearly, they were irrelevant to _him_.

"I see." She thought of a few very bad words in her head. "I think I've grown up with . . . very different circumstances and very different customs."

Demetri chuckled. "Do you wish to tutor me in your modern ways?" He looked at her like one would a child—indulgently.

She could not afford to acknowledge his condescension. "Any relationship—a friendship or a romantic attachment—is formed over time. And they each begin in friendship first. They move slowly." She watched him as she spoke.

He quirked an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "I am not a creature that lacks for time, Bella, but you are." He pretended to sip his wine.

She didn't ask what time limits she operated under. She knew. And she knew just as well that she didn't want to form an attachment to him.

"I understand your intention, but I'm . . . ready for such a relationship. I need to begin by simply beginning to know you, being your friend first." It was a pack of lies, and she hoped to God she'd rehearsed it well enough in her head in her hours alone for it to be believable, but he was so arrogant, it just might work.

His hand reached over and captured one of hers. "You were afraid to tell me this."

No such luck.

"I do not wish you to be afraid of me."

And good luck with that.

"I will do as you wish, begin in friendship, but let us begin tonight. Tell me of yourself, my Bella. What is it that you do with your friends?"

_Hang out with her best werewolf friend and rebuild motorbikes?_

"I like spending time with them, going out to movies or meals, reading the same things, talking about our lives—just hanging out."

"Hanging out," he said, as if testing the words.

She could practically see the literalism in his eyes. "It means to spend time together."

"You said that twice, then. You enjoy the company of your friends."

 _Shit—no!_ That was not what she meant for him to grasp. She did not want to spend a whole bunch of time with him.

"But I like my time alone, too. I was an only child. I learned to recharge in my alone time."

"Hmm," Demetri said thoughtfully, again pretending to sip at his wine. "Drink," he ordered. "You have barely touched your wine."

Bella took a miniscule sip.

"Drink more," he said, frowning.

"I'm not really used to drinking alcohol."

"You shall be," Demetri said. He eyed her wine.

Bella took another sip and then another, seeing his disapproving look. She hadn't had much, but even a little was enough to make her thoughts harder to hold on to.

When the food arrived, Demetri made a good show of pretending to eat. In some ways, he reminded her so much of the Cullens, and yet in others . . . she shuddered. His eyes, obscured by contacts, had the faintest of ruby halos, which she tried to avoid seeing. He was easier to look at with dark brown eyes but not by much. And not with the way he looked at her.

His hands were less offensive, more occupied in human habits. As she ate, she studied the way his fork travelled between the plate and his mouth. He hadn't spoken since the food had arrived. Perhaps he knew that humans appreciated their food hot. Perhaps as vampires—she skirted that next thought.

"You said you wished to study. What do you desire to learn?" Demetri asked her.

This seemed like a safe topic to traverse. "I need to finish my high school courses first, but then . . . literature, I think."

"Hmm, what type of literature?" He pressed the fork to his mouth, pretending to chew, watching her the entire time as if she were to be consumed next.

 _Perhaps I am,_ she thought. To a certain extent, it was easier to think this way. It was true even if Demetri pretended it was unlikely. There were no guarantees with vampires, red-eyed or otherwise.

"It's hard to say. There are so many kinds I love, I can't really pick one," she admitted. There was such a rich trove of writers whose prose fed her mind and filled the cracks in her heart.

"I see. You are making friends with your books, then. No commitments yet." He smirked and twirled his wine glass between his forefinger and thumb, the ruby liquid swirling perfectly around the glass half-globe. He seemed to like that he'd made a joke out of her earlier comment.

"I guess not." She kept her face straight. She would play along with some things but not this. He could take his condescension and stuff it up his ass.

To his credit, he appeared to grasp her displeasure. "This is reasonable. You are young yet and new to the world. But let me broaden it for you. I will show you the library this evening."

"Thank you, but I'm not sure my Italian will be quite up to—"

"No, my Bella. Not the city's library. _Our_ library. There is plenty in English for you to read, I assure you."

While she recalled Carlisle speaking of his time with the Volturi with some esteem for their seemingly outward sophistication, she didn't remember mention of a library, but it made sense.

"I'd like that." Given the Volturi's power and wealth, she speculated their collection would be impressive.

And she was not wrong.

"Whoa."

The whole castle, or rather the complex, was huge. The library was no exception. It began aboveground with a stunning reading room, the high windows promising abundant natural light during daylight hours. A narrow second-level gallery ringed the room, its walls as full of books as the level below. In the centre of the room, a staircase descended into blackness. Even illuminated by only the flashlight in Demetri's hand, the scope of the library was impressive.

Though the stairs were even and well-made, Bella still moved cautiously down them. Demetri matched her pace, his right arm linked in her left. While she didn't like the contact, she did appreciate knowing he probably wouldn't let her fall down the stairs. She couldn't see the end of them yet. There was enough light bouncing back up off the polished stone to see that the walls were literally carved out of the bedrock. She reached out a finger to brush the whorls that illustrated the space.

"It is Marcus's family's guilloche."

"Is that a crest?" she asked.

"No, simply a motif used in building. But there," and he shone the flashlight upwards to illuminate a simple crest featuring a sword, what looked like a scroll, and a body lying prone beneath them, "is Marcus's crest. Power, knowledge, and life."

She didn't ask for a visual interpretation. The symbols were clear enough.

Demetri's arm tugged her forward. "The texts you will want are scattered throughout the library, but they are well indexed." He shined the flashlight towards what Bella recognized as a card catalogue registry, sub-labelled, "English texts." As the beam travelled the room, she caught a glimpse of other such labels in other languages.

Just how big was this library?

"What would you like to read?" Demetri asked.

"Um, Emily Dickinson?"

Demetri asked for the spelling and then riffled rapidly through the card catalogue. "Un momento," he said, placing the flashlight in her hand.

She let out a very long breath. Had she been holding her breath? Not quite, more just not breathing easily. How quickly she'd accustomed herself to that. Pressing her hand to her stomach, she took in a purposefully deep breath and then let it out. "You'll figure this out," she whispered to herself.

"What will you figure out?" Demetri called back, his form emerging from the inky blackness.

"Oh, the library," she lied. "It's, um, rather intimidating."

"I think you will find it less so in the light." Demetri chuckled and pressed a book into her hands. "Here."

"Thank you," she said. He'd explained that there were lights, but the collection curators only turned them on when they were present. Apparently, they were paranoid about the possibility of the electricity sparking fire.

"But it is late. You should rest." He nudged her back in the direction of the stairs.

When they reached her room—and she caught herself thinking of it as "hers"—Bella's heart rate began to race. It sounded loud, even to her.

Demetri said nothing, taking her hand and pressing her wrist to his lips again—and again that kiss that ended in a lick of his tongue.

She was prepared for it this time but not for the tingling light-headedness that came with it.

Fear, she determined. She was afraid of him. With cause.

Demetri used the grip on her arm to gently pull her closer. His breath, as it seemed all vampire breath did, stunned her slightly. "Good night, my Bella. I hope you enjoy making friends with your new library book. I know I have enjoyed becoming friends with you."

He was there before her eyes blinked and gone when she opened them.

Bella pawed through the clothes that had been left for her, feeling for something stretchy and soft. Nothing. The closest she came to it was a heavy cotton nightgown, its length promising warmth but the bodice cut to accentuate and reveal her chest.

She chose warmth over modesty, putting it on and digging into the heavy covers of the bed.

The book Demetri had retrieved for her sat on her bedside table. She hadn't read much of Emily Dickinson, barring a few poems studied in her high school literature classes. And while she'd given him the name off the top of her head, she knew now it was there because she wanted an author who had at least lived on the continent where she'd been born. And because her poetic sentiments seemed morbidly suited to the circumstances in which Bella found herself.

Flipping open the cover, Bella stared. She shouldn't be surprised, not really, but it was a first edition, perfectly preserved, the gilt edging and floral design bright and colourful. She set it down on the covers, knowing the oils on her hands would easily damage it. She really should be wearing archivists' gloves, but—and she looked towards the wardrobe—she doubted there would be any there.

She kept staring at the little book. It was the product of human hands. And if it was a first edition, who knew if Emiy Dickinson's friends had touched it? The initial run would have been very small. Her forefinger trailed over the spine and lettering. She was likely one of very few humans who had seen or touched this copy. It was like a zipline through history just holding it. She was connected.

But she'd felt that way about the Cullens, too.

Her hand fell away from the book.

But it was a human thing, this book. It held a human's wants and words.

So she picked it up and began reading, pressing her fingers to its pages and binding, knowing she would leave her own mark upon the words of this long-dead woman, wondering if any other human would ever do the same.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	5. Human Hands

A/N for 2020-07-08: chayasara gets gold stars from me for beta-ing this. 

~ Erin

* * *

Bella had woken early, and even though she knew she needed more sleep couldn’t settle herself back into it. She eyed the little fridge in the room, pondering its cold offerings. She was hungry, but the idea of eating something cold when she was already so chilled dulled her appetite.

While Demetri had told her she had permission to roam the city, it felt like a great leap, emerging from the privacy of her room to find her way to the reception area.

After losing herself at least three times, Bella located the elevator. Gianna was nowhere in sight, and thankfully, neither was anyone else. She pressed the button, hoping the doors would not open to reveal vampires, or worse, humans.

Her body still reacted viscerally to that memory.

But it had only been days, she told herself in an attempt to self-console. How often did vampires . . . feed?

Her stomach registered its distress with this topic. 

“Yeah, not a good morning topic,” she mumbled.

The elevator was clear, and she pressed the button for the main level. At the entranceway, Bella paused, one hand on the door handle, the sudden question in her mind: what if it  _ wasn’t _ okay if she left?

_ What are they going to do, kill you? _

True.

The desire for hot food won out, and she pushed the door open and walked into the bright light of an early Italian morning. The street was surprisingly busy, men in well-cut suits and women in tailored clothes. Bella brushed her hand down the front of her jacket. She’d selected the most casual of clothes in the wardrobe: tailored wool trousers, a silk blouse, and a matching jacket that left no curves unexposed. She’d worn sunglasses in an attempt to mask her insecurity. She didn’t want to look like a total outsider, but as she watched the women walk over the cobblestones in their heeled shoes, she knew her flat and uncoordinated feet would give her away before her lack of Italian did.

Looking back at the entrance, she scanned the space around her, trying in vain to find a number on the building. Instead, she memorized the structures around her, bookmarking the castle’s tower. It at least would not likely be lost amongst the small alleys and side streets.

Two cobblestone-induced missteps and a few minutes later, she found a small café, passing by it and then pausing in a corner, pulling out her small book of Italian phrases. After she’d muttered them to herself for a few minutes, she closed the book and hid it back in her handbag. Then she took a deep breath and walked into the café, where she immediately tripped over the entranceway carpet.

She heard the man’s voice, the many syllables he uttered towards her unintelligible.

“Signorina?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I—”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. So much for blending in. When he grabbed her hand to help her up, she had to check herself. His hand was warm.

_ Of course his hand is warm _ , she told herself.  _ He’s human. _

But it felt so strange that she pulled her hand away abruptly.

“I was coming in for a coffee.”

“It is what we sell here.” He smiled.

“Uh, yes.” God, how many more shades of stupid could she look?

“You are American?”

Bella dusted herself off, hoping the movement wasn’t some sort of cultural faux pas. “Yes.”

“What would you like?” He gestured to the board behind the counter. The writing was in Italian, but there were a few items listed in English.

“Just a coffee, and a . . .” she sighed, the Italian she’d just tried to learn having disappeared. 

“Un caffè, e a . . .?” he prompted.

Bella eyed this helpful stranger. He had moved back behind the counter where an older man was helping another customer. “Perhaps a cornetto?” He twitched his head to the side, shaking a lock of black hair out of the way. His grin crinkled up his eyes. A handsome man. A man used to being seen that way.

“Please,” she asked.

He nodded, turning to a machine and pressing buttons. “You are learning Italian?” he asked above the noise of the grinder.

“Um, yes,” Bella said, wondering how he’d surmised this.

When he turned around, he said, “I saw your book.” He nodded towards her purse.

She followed his gaze, noting the text peeking out from the top. It had partially fallen out when she fell. She pushed it back inside, feeling for her wallet. Still there.

“Perhaps tomorrow you will order in Italian.” He winked, handing over her order.

She presented her credit card.

“Ah no, signorina, we do not use these. Cash only.”

Bella inhaled sharply. “Oh no.” She opened her wallet, hoping cash had magically appeared. Alas, no.

“It is no matter,” he said. “Pay me tomorrow.” He held out her order.

“Oh, I can’t—”

“A pretty girl like you? Yes, you can.” That wink again.

She blinked, surprised. “How do you know I’ll be back tomorrow?”

He grinned. “Tourists don’t dress like that, nor do they carry such texts. Besides, a man can hope.”

“Um—”

“You can say  _ grazie _ , and enjoy your breakfast, signorina—?” His eyebrow lifted in inquiry.

“Bella.”

He chuckled. “You are well named.” He nodded politely and then turned his attention to the customer who’d come to stand behind Bella.

She took her breakfast and moved to one of the corner tables, determined to have at least a few more words in Italian with which to thank him by the end of her meal. Her coffee was delicious. She could make a habit of such a beverage. It had bite on the first sip but went down smoothly. She shivered in delight over the heat. And the pastry—good lord, it was full of something sweet and soft—apricot? She ate slowly, wanting to linger amidst humans and warmth, for the little café had that in ample supply. Its noisiness was a comfort, too, the Italian bubbling up around her in lyrical animation. The far corner boasted two wingback chairs and a small fireplace. The current occupants were two aged men, voices gruff but audible, their grey hair shaking with vibrant conversation. She hoped their presence wasn’t habitual, because she envied them their chairs.

When she was finished eating, and she’d lingered as long as she thought polite, she stood and returned her dishes to the counter.

“And the pretty lady cleans up after herself,” the man said.

She’d been so lost in her people-watching that she hadn’t even looked in her book. “Thank you very much. I will pay you.” She wasn’t sure exactly when. She’d have to find a bank and some cash. “Signor—?”

“Just Silvio,” he said. “My father is Signor Conti.” He nodded towards the other man behind the counter as he wiped out a cup. “Ciao, Bella.”

“Ciao,” she said, trying out the bent vowels.

That wink. “Very nice.”

She walked back towards the castle slowly, not eager to return but feeling she should, just to make sure she could without getting lost.

She was what felt like half a block away when she found herself abruptly pressed into an alley wall by a very cold body.

“What were you doing, my Bella?” Demetri’s voice was a purr but a very dangerous-sounding one.

“I went out to get breakfast,” she breathed.

His hands were flat against the wall behind her, and he leaned inwards, moving his head up and then down as if—yes—scenting.

“Who touched you?” he asked.

Her breakfast became a leaden ball in her stomach, cold and unwelcome.

“I—”

“Who?”

“I fell,” she said. “The waiter helped me up.”

His shoulders softened. “I see.”

The shaking began almost immediately. When she tried to step away from the wall, her knees wouldn’t hold her.

“What is wrong?” Demetri asked.

“You frightened me,” Bella said, yanking her arm away when he tried to take it. His hand insisted, tucking her shaking arm into his own. 

“You tremble, as if you are afraid of me.”

“You just grabbed me and shoved me up against a wall. What do you expect?” The adrenaline that had flooded her system was making her nauseous now. From past experience, she knew the feeling would subside, but she would feel miserable for the next few hours. “I need to go lie down.”

He didn’t warn her, and before she could blink or even close her eyes, the alley was disappearing, and they were falling, falling, and then landing, the shock absorbed by Demetri’s posture.

“Stop!” she said. “Please.”

“I have stopped,” he said, “but you wished to lie down. I will take you to your room.”

“Please, can you go slowly?” And unbidden, she thought of Edward and the way he’d carried her and how similarly she’d felt. It didn’t help.

Demetri refused to let her walk, only putting her down when they reached her room. He lay her in the bed, and Bella held her breath as he reached farther up to throw the covers over her. His physical attention ended there, and he backed away, eyebrows nudged together, as if presented with a problem.

Bella considered the one she might have created. “Demetri?”

“Yes.” He still looked vexed.

“Am I allowed to speak with people here in Volterra? Or to make friends?” She hoped she was. A very lonely existence stretched out before her as she contemplated the possibility that she was not. 

“Yes,” he answered. “You may. We are all required to interact with the inhabitants of this place as the occasion demands.”

“And nothing . . . bad will happen to them if I befriend any of them?”

“As long as you keep our secret, no. No human here may be consumed or otherwise harmed.”

Her whole body seemed to exhale. When he’d held her in the alley, she had known that look, that ferocious jealous energy. And as she looked at Demetri now, she knew it in another form. He was jealous that she wanted to have friends, that she wanted things beyond him.

She did not dare refuse or displease Demetri outright. He— _ all _ of them—knew how she felt about Edward, and while Jane’s powers didn’t work on her, they very clearly did on him. Worse yet, would they hurt Edward in an attempt to coerce her?

_ Just like he hurt you? _ a tiny part of her traitorous mind thought.  _ Like he hurts you now with his continued rejection?  _ The greater part of her refused this self-pity.  _ He’s safe. And if he doesn’t love me, it doesn’t matter. I still love him. _

Oh, how it hurt.

The icy finger that trailed her jaw brought her back to herself. “Where do you go, my Bella, when you look so pensive?”

“I miss my family,” she lied. “My friends. Humans need . . . other humans. We are not meant to be alone.”

“You are not alone.” The icy trail continued up to her scalp, snaking into three finger-led paths through her hair. He inhaled deeply. Then he moved away abruptly. “I will see that you have means to contact your family today.”

And then, as he seemed to do, he disappeared. The door whispered shut with a soft click.

After taking in several deep breaths, Bella calmed herself marginally and then snatched the book of poems from her bedside table, clutching it to herself and curling up under the covers, wishing it was a human being she could seek comfort from. Or better, the cold body of the man she loved, who wanted nothing to do with her.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	6. The World

The knock on the door was soft and unexpected.

“Yes?” Bella said, expecting Gianna, the only being so far to announce her entrance so.

But she knew Demetri well enough to recognize the pale hand as it snaked around the door and pushed it open. He carried a large white box by its handle, setting this down on her desk. A silver apple graced the pale cover.

As always, she tensed slightly, Demetri’s presence alerting all those defensive instincts that had been so absent with Edward and the other Cullens.

“This is for you,” Demetri said, waving a hand at the box, indicating she should open it. 

She did so carefully, mindful of any edge which might be sharp. She had not yet forgotten the last time she opened a gift from a vampire.

And was it a gift? She wondered. What kind of thanks would be expected? She kept these questions to herself.

The laptop was sleek and white, and from the packaging, Bella saw that it was the latest model available. 

Demetri guided her unnecessarily through the setup, surprised when she knew what to do. While the operating system was unfamiliar, she understood the basic organizational concepts. What did surprise her was the wireless internet connection and its own portable source. 

“Plug this in here, and you will connect anywhere you wish.”

“Wow,” Bella said. She meant it. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere the signal can reach.”

It was like being handed the world. She could take it with her outside. She could email her mom or Charlie or her friends. Not that Charlie had email beyond his work or that Jacob had a computer, but she could email her mom.

“Thank you,” she said, breathing through the lump in her throat. 

Demetri shrugged. “I am glad it will be useful to you. I have bookmarked several places that offer online instruction for American students. Your email is already set up, but understand that it will not be private, and your messages will be monitored before they are sent. Be discreet. The same goes for any paper correspondence you send.”

Being discreet seemed like a large umbrella. “May I say I’m in Italy?” she asked.

“Yes. You are enjoying Rome very much. Your address is in your contacts.” He tapped the icon on the screen.

She understood. “I see.”

“Good. Enjoy exploring. I will see you at seven for supper.” He smiled. “Wear the black dress tonight.”

With this final command, he disappeared.

It took her an hour to compose what she hoped was an appropriate communication to her mother. If it wasn’t, well, she assumed whoever was reading her email would edit appropriately.

_ Hi, Mom. _

_ I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you before this. I know I probably scared the crap out of you and Dad by taking off like I did this past week. Edward is okay, and his family has made arrangements to have him stay on here to make sure he stays that way. Now that I’m here, I’ve decided to stay on, too. No, not with Edward. I think I’ve found out what you did so many years ago: Forks is just too small, and I felt like I was suffocating there. Things are better here. Rome is beautiful, and I’ve found a place to stay in an old castle. While I’m using my savings a bit, I’m also working off my room and board by participating in a language study and offering some tutoring.  _

_ I will finish school but likely not before June. I’ve registered for a GED course. College will have to wait. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I will stay in touch. _

_ It’s tricky for me to get to a phone. I know this is asking a lot, but would you please call Dad and let him know that I’m okay? I’ll be in touch with him, too, but I’m not sure when my letter will arrive in the mail. _

_ Love you, _

_ Bella _

The reply was almost instantaneous:

_ Baby girl: Be glad I’m just damn happy to hear from you. Otherwise, you’d be in for an earful of words that have no place coming from a mother’s mouth or her keyboard. You are not the person I ever expected to have to worry about taking off on a whim. Not that it was a whim. I understand Edward was in trouble, but still—your father is relieved, but prepare for a reckoning when you see him next. . . . _

The tone shifted from there, the light rebuke gone and Reneé’s interest in all things Italian present. Bella would wait to reply. Reneé could be a demanding correspondent, and Bella needed to gather details she could feed her mother that straddled the line between truth and fiction. If she was going to keep her placated, she needed to tell her things that were fictitious but true enough that Bella wouldn't be caught in a lie.

As for herself, Bella had enrolled in a GED program in which the self-pacing would allow her to catch up where she needed it. She just hoped she could master the material on her own. She’d always had help with the trickier parts of math. Idly, she wondered what Demetri’s math skills were like. The thought made her laugh aloud, the smile sliding off her face as she remembered how Edward had helped her in what felt like so long ago.

“Enough,” she told herself, closing the laptop.

Standing, she stretched, reaching her arms up above her head, feeling her tendons pop and sing as she released some of their strain.

The day’s light had faded, and when she glanced at the clock, she realized it was almost seven. She walked to the wardrobe, trying to visualize the black dress. Opening the door, she recalled why she’d set that particular garment aside the night before.

“No way,” she said, holding up the dress to her body. It was of the ‘little black dress’ variety, and ‘little’ fully lived up to its name. While it made a graceful approach to her knees, it took a swan dive down her chest.

She put it back, shuffling hangered items around, looking for the dress she’d worn the night before. She’d put it back, she was sure, but as she kept looking, Bella couldn’t find it.

“You are not ready,” Demetri said. 

“Jesus!” Bella exclaimed, stumbling back from the wardrobe.

Demetri frowned. “Such exclamations are not required. Why are you not dressed?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I was just looking for something to wear.”

He pulled the black dress from the wardrobe. “Here. I will leave you to change.”

“No,” Bella said before she could even think. Her breath hitched slightly. This was so unwise, so very unwise. She remembered the angry press of his body and lifted her gaze slowly. “It’s, um, not something I’m comfortable wearing.”

One of Demetri’s eyebrows lifted, but he seemed otherwise unperturbed. “And why is that, my Bella?”

Her shoulders slumped slightly in relief. “It’s too revealing.”

He stared. Not the kind of stare a human made, but the type that vampires used to skewer their prey to the spot. Then his gaze slid slowly up and then down her form and then up and down again. “Perhaps. Choose something more modest, if you must.”

Given his compromise on the issue, she decided it was wise not to voice her question as to where the other dress had gone. She settled for a longer gown, this one much like the dress she’d worn the previous night, except sleeveless, the cowl neckline folding over itself in a suggestive curve across her chest.

“You look exquisite,” Demetri said when she emerged from the bathroom. 

Bella was prepared for him to capture her arm this time, knowing it now as his habitual gesture. She had her purse ready to be wedged between them, but he took it, tucking it under his other arm. His free fingers teased the flesh of her forearm, trailing themselves up and down, making her arm hair stand up on end.

Bella reminded herself that he had listened when she spoke about how relationships developed. She hoped again that his sense of ‘slow’ was commensurate with his age and immortality because she was in no position to slow him otherwise.

Instead of taking her up to the main entrance though, Demetri set the elevator car down to the lower levels, where they emerged into a surprisingly modern-looking garage. It was filled with equally modern-looking cars. He pulled her towards a silver one, opening the passenger door and seeing her inside. She fastened her seatbelt immediately. Her recent ride with Alice had not made her nostalgic for driving with vampires.

Demetri did not tell her where they were going, but after emerging into the fading daylight, they drove through the city’s main gate and onto the highway. 

“Where are we going?” she finally dared ask.

“To dinner,” Demetri replied.

She didn’t sigh, but her exhale was arrhythmic.

Demetri looked at her and not at the road, his speed undiminished. 

Bella’s bands clenched the sides of her seat. 

“What is wrong?” Demetri asked.

“You’re not looking at the road.”

“I do not need to look at the road.”

Bella kept her gaze squarely on her lap. Even knowing the capacity of vampires and their ability to give attention to many things, driving with one still made her insides churn.

Demetri appeared not to care.

“I wish to take you to Mazzanta. I thought you might enjoy the ocean there.”

Bella still didn’t look up.

“I thought you lived near the ocean,” Demetri said. “And perhaps you might miss it.”

How wrong he was, but the gesture was kind, and this she attempted to appreciate. “Thank you,” she said softly, puzzled over his behaviour. While he had peppered their interactions with many courtesies, he had ignored her preferences too. There were holes in his kindness. She skirted the issue of his utterly controlling nature, focusing instead on how he had grasped so many of the small things that Bella appreciated. It almost reminded her of how Charlie had reacted to her in those early summers she was home. Her father had said or done things that she’d understood were the product of her mother’s intelligence or prodding. And now Demetri seemed to be doing the same thing, like he had insight . . . and here her stomach sank several measures more. Perhaps he had. Perhaps Edward, seeing what she had done, understood how she felt, and as he didn’t want her . . . was giving Demetri pointers.

It would make sense. The books, the computer, God, even her email—he would know all of this. 

“Did Edward tell you that?” she asked, keeping her voice even.

“Yes, he did. Why?”

“I just wondered,” she breathed out. The realization was a wrecking ball to her hopes.

There were no tears. Her body understood there was no point to them. There was simply that slipping back into the dark existence she’d known when Edward left. And strangely, It was almost a relief, that familiar deadness. No ups. No downs. Just the level bottom of being that promised perpetual greyness.

When she lifted her eyes back up to the road, she found she didn’t care that it whipped by in nearly indiscernible shapes, rock walls zipping by inches from the glass and her face. 

Their destination was a small seaside town full of pretty houses and restaurants that didn’t have to try to be quaint. Bella thought she would have been delighted to see this with friends. With Edward. He’d recommended well to Demetri.

She ate the dinner Demetri ordered. And when he proposed a walk on the beach, she nodded her head automatically.

Demetri held her shoes in one hand, her arm in his other. In the dark, Bella watched the black surf rumble in and out. It was pretty, and the sand was fine beneath her feet, so unlike the last beach she’d found herself on.

There was a part of her that wished Jacob hadn’t saved her. But the other part was grateful she’d saved Edward. He would be dead if she hadn’t survived that jump.

“That’s good,” she murmured.

“What is good?” Demetri asked.

Glancing at him, Bella saw the concern in his face but not the kind that was born of emotion, the kind made by calculation. 

“The beach is lovely,” Bella said mechanically.

Their walk had taken them on a small circuit curling back around to their starting point. Once at the restaurant again, Demetri helped Bella to one of the deck chairs, calling out an order to one of the waiters.

“They will bring you coffee. I need to run a short errand, and then I will return.” He nodded, as if acknowledging his own words and then turned and walked away at a speed that was almost human. She watched him disappear into the blackness, realizing this was the first time she’d seen him actually walk away. It was a dull observation made by what felt like her increasingly slow-moving brain.

The waiter did bring coffee and dessert. “Grazzi,” Bella said, putting a hand to the cup for its warmth but otherwise ignoring the food and drink in front of her.

The ocean waves washed up the beach and down, a regular rhythm she knew from many visits with Jacob. 

Her friend’s visage swam before her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. What would he make of her absence? She’d sent him a letter, posting it along with her father’s. Gianna had taken the open envelopes, assuring her they’d be sent within the day. Would her words arrive unaltered? She hoped so. Her lip curled up, contemplating what vampire would have the job of writing out her altered correspondence again. That tiny sprout of a smile disappeared. Jacob would smell the scent on the paper if one of the Volturi did that. What would Jacob think?

She exhaled loudly. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be returning, and there was nothing she could do to assure him of her well-being. She could only hope he thought the smell was from Alice or Edward.

The waves called her attention back to them. Not so long ago, she’d jumped off a cliff and into an ocean. What was it, a week past? Her life had altered so dramatically, it was hard to fathom how much had transpired in so short a time. And while she hadn’t intended to harm herself or die in her leap from that rocky cliff, she had wanted to be reckless if only to hear his voice.

God, how stupid she’d been.

Once under the waves, she’d fought and fought hard for her life, but at some point, she’d known the futility and stopped her struggle, slipping further into the cold darkness. She’d heard Edward’s voice most pointedly then. It had given her such peace. She could have died happily then.

“But you’re here now,” she whispered. And what kind of thanks would it be to Jacob, who had saved her, to give up now? Or to Charlie or Reneé, who had given her their hearts?

She imagined herself in that water now, heavy and dark around her, the oppressiveness of her depression returned. And she imagined herself kicking against the sand, pushing herself upwards, struggling to the surface and gulping in air.

She could not give up. She _would_ _not_ give up.

Picking up the coffee, she sipped at it.

“No more feeling sorry for yourself,” she mumbled.  _ And no more talking to yourself either. They hear everything. _

Stabbing the dessert with the fork provided, Bella lifted a tiny morsel to her mouth. Her brain felt sluggish. It would be easy to slide backwards on this promise to herself, but she had to think carefully now about where she found herself. If Edward was telling Demetri things, she needed to proceed very, very carefully and manage her erstwhile suitor in the same manner. She needed to work strategically.

And just as if summoned, Demetri walked back out of the darkness, sitting down across from her. As he leaned forward over the table, Bella gasped. 

The contacts he’d donned had nearly dissolved, and there was no missing the brightening halo around the fading brown. But most tellingly, a tiny spot of blood dotted his collar. 

“You—” she began.

“Ran an errand,” Demetri said.

Bella put her fork down.

“You are not finished.” He sounded displeased.

“I’m full,” she said, but her mind was full of what he had so obviously done. Someone was not going to go home tonight, and she wondered who would miss the person whose presence would never grace a street or taste coffee or dessert again. Would anyone miss them, or had he taken someone whose ties to society were loose enough for the detachment to go unnoticed?

She didn’t ask. There were things she could do and things she couldn’t, but she grasped at this fringe of her humanity. She would grieve later for this loss.

“Are you ready to return home?”

Home. 

It was not home to which they would return, but she said yes all the same.

As they walked back towards the car, Bella determined that home was not a place but the life she would continue to live, her heart holding memories of all those things that were precious to her.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	7. True North

A/N for 2020-07-10: Alrighty people, here you go: Edward!

Many, many thanks to Chayasara over on FanFiction.net for stepping up to beta this story. The next chapter will post in a few days.

Cheers,  
Erin

* * *

It was not standing that wearied Edward nor the silent and not-so-silent derision he endured in Aro's or the others' thought-out commentary. It was Aro's hand. Edward was but an antenna to the world around his new master, linked to him by this dry appendage that felt like nothing.

He wished Aro could sweat or feel clammy or at least cold.

He wished for distraction.

And while Aro directed Edward's attention with the whip of his silent thoughts, his focus strayed like a compass needle, finding its true north given the slightest slackening.

"Edward." Aro prompted him verbally.

Yes, his thoughts had shifted again. Edward split his attention, part of his mind fixed on the mental machinations of the vampire Aro didn't trust, the other reviewing what he'd seen in the morning sunlight.

While Demetri's vision was acute, Edward did not appreciate the particular lens through which he viewed Bella—or the possessive manner with which he treated her.

He especially did not like the questions that Demetri had asked him, albeit silently. Aro had laughed aloud, telling Edward, "It is only fair we level this playing field, Edward. And he does not ask much." Then he had turned to Demetri, smiling, explaining what Bella did like—her favourite authors, her preferred books, and how she hated to be cold. Oh, the irony Aro had found in that.

Edward had been happy Bella had gone in search of her own breakfast the morning prior, not fearful of the new place around her. How he wished he could show it to her. But it had been enough to at least see her through the gentleness of human eyes even if they were lodged in the head of a lustful man.

Beside him, Aro chuckled.

Edward winced internally.

Though Aro was not given to juvenile teasing, he did find it amusing that Edward had left Bella so untouched in this regard, and he wondered what Edward would make of Demetri's efforts in wooing Bella physically.

Edward's two thinking halves converged in violent collage of fearful images.

"Ach!" Aro said in frustration, nearly throwing Edward's hand back at him. "Go hunt!" he snapped. "Return when you are of use, and do not linger longer than you need." Aro did not need to give voice to his threats. Edward had already seen what would happen to Bella if he did not comply.

He nodded and turned, running from the throne room. The daylight prevented him from leaving the castle complex on foot, but the Volturi had a small army of cars whose tinted windows would give him the cover required to travel. Not that he wanted to leave, but if he was to hunt, he needed distance to ensure Bella's safety.

 _Oh Bella_ , he thought, closing his eyes. _Why?_ He'd left to prevent this outcome or anything close to it. He had known that he couldn't forget her, but _she_ was human. He'd hoped that time would weaken her feelings for him, so that she at least might be happy.

He found himself growling as he walked, angry at his own stupidity. He'd grossly underestimated her, and she was now paying the price for his arrogance. God, and to make it worse, he was prevented from seeing her. Aro had decreed that Demetri was to be left to his experiment.

Edward retracted his hand from the dusty gouge he'd left in the wall.

 _Control yourself_ , he chastised himself.

Demetri was calculating, but he wasn't heartless. He was lonely, too. With this, Edward could empathize. But Bella was no more made to be his mate than she was Aro's. Even Marcus had seen this, warning Aro of as much when he'd consented to Demetri's ridiculous experiment.

But underneath Aro's permission was a darker reason: keeping Bella human gave Aro leverage over Edward. He knew that Edward wanted her to remain so, and therefore her living state allowed him an efficient means by which to control his newest guard member.

Efficient. The Volturi were that.

They were also not well-located for the kind of hunting Edward needed to do. The nearest stretch of wilderness was a nature reserve a half-hour drive away. He'd plucked its location from the minds of his new and unwanted colleagues, who occasionally found meals in the indigent population that sometimes housed themselves there.

He stood for a long time in the parking garage, contemplating whether or not to go. There was no question as to what Aro would do if he was less than fully useful to the Volturi, but it was a conundrum with no easy solution. If he left, Bella was ultimately unprotected, and if he stayed, he would displease Aro.

His running index of the minds around him had created no confidence in Bella's protectors—or jailors. While they respected Aro's edict that she remain untouched, as Gianna was untouched, he didn't trust their control.

But he had little choice in the matter.

Turning on his heel, he walked out of the car park, moving instead toward the exit that would lead him to the city sewers. There were easy enough exits here that would allow him to find something small from which to drink.

He serviced the city first by depleting the abundant collection of feral cats he'd heard screeching and yowling their way through the night, these well-fed on the rats that proliferated in the city's ancient drainage system. The flea-infested creatures were thin, but several of them gave him enough blood to lighten his eyes. He'd been gone only minutes, but more importantly, he had been close enough to know that Bella was still safe and as well as she could be.

Conversely, he reeked of rats, cats, and sewage. He walked briskly to the small room that had been appointed to him. He knew from the thoughts of those around him that he was as far from the castle's human apartments as he could be. The choice was a deliberate one. There would be no way his path would ever cross Bella's.

Thumping open the unlocked door to his room, he stopped and stared. Occupying most of the small space was a new upright piano. Dirtied as he was, he didn't dare touch it but smiled when he saw the note that had been left on the music stand. It had two words. One was a command, and the other was his sister's name:

Play.  
 _\- Alice_

He cleaned himself using the ewer and bowl on the small washstand and then changed his clothes, leaving the soiled ones in the metal bin by the door. They would be burned later, along with whatever other waste needed disposing of. The Volturi's crematorium-grade incinerator was a modern one, efficient and powerful, used so regularly that its resultant heat was redirected to heat the hot water cistern.

He sincerely hoped Bella did not know how her bathing water was heated.

But he did hope that she heard him, for he stole a moment to play the song that had echoed again in his heart and now bled into the keys before him.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	8. The Lower Order

A/N for 2020-07-15: Hope you're enjoying this. It's been a trip to write.

Many, many thanks to chayasara over at FanFiction.net for combing the extra commas out of my writing.

Cheers,

Erin

* * *

Patterns were good for humans as was human company and the security of routine. When Bella realized she’d begun thinking of herself as part of the third-person, she put down the book she had been reading and made herself go outside for a long walk. It had been just over a week since her arrival, and the establishment of a schedule had helped her feel more in control even if it was in this tiny way.

Demetri inserted himself at will into her day, appearing as he pleased and disappearing in the same way too. His most reliable pattern was his clocklike appearance at the dinner hour when the sun receded enough that they could walk through the twilighted streets of Volterra or some other town he’d picked, each time visiting a new restaurant. He always ended the evening with that bizzare form of a kiss and lick to her wrist that Bella chalked up to an equally bizarre and ancient vampire culture.

As such, Bella was growing very tired of formal attire, but she kept her opinions to herself, instead enjoying her own choices of where she would dine for breakfast or lunch. She ate very little food within the castle itself, or “the institute” as it was referred to by the locals. An institute for what, she did not inquire.

After registering for her GED course, she dedicated most of her mornings to studying after a quick café breakfast, then taking a walk around lunchtime, returning to her room for the afternoon and more studying.

Today though, she’d determined would be the day she’d find a clothing store in Volterra. After visiting the local bank, she’d discovered the profound understatement Gianna had used to describe her ‘small stipend.’ While she didn’t want to waste funds of any sort, Bella had determined that she didn’t need to be a miser, either, at least not on the Volturi’s dime.

And she was done with being victim to whomever was choosing her clothes.

Unhappily though, Bella did not find Gianna at her usual position at the front desk, and when she went to approach the main doors, found them locked.

“Looking to run away?” a female voice called.

Bella tensed. It wasn’t a human voice, and she didn’t want to turn around and confirm the likely source.

“What, too afraid to even look?” Jane asked.

Yes, it was Jane. Bella was sure.

“No, just looking to do some shopping.” Bella hoped her voice did not shake too much.

Jane snorted. “It’s Sunday. Everything is closed.”

Stunned by the production of this helpful, if not disappointing, information, Bella turned around, but Jane was gone.

Unsure how to unlock the doors and not wanting to cause problems in an attempt to do so, Bella sighed and walked back to her room. “Project comfortable-underwear” would just have to wait until tomorrow.

The empty hallways echoed her steps, and beyond the echoing, there was some hint of sound that trailed after the noise from her own movement. She paused, head cocked, trying to catch it, but it was gone. She could have sworn it sounded like piano music, like Edward’s music.

She shook her head, deciding she was hearing things.

As a rule, she tried to avoid thinking of Edward. The once sought-after delusions had not occurred since she’d jumped from the cliff into the sea. Perhaps her mind could no longer sustain the fantasy now that she was so wholly faced with Edward’s true feelings. Abrupt and unwanted, his words and his voice rang in her head: “My kind . . . we’re very easily distracted.”

She closed her eyes, pausing to rest a hand on one of the corridor’s many heavy doors, gritting her teeth and hoping he was really right. It would at least mean that Demetri’s interest would be short-lived.

Once in her room, Bella sat down at her desk, vexed. She would try the front doors again later, but in the interim, she wanted something to do that wasn’t reading. Drumming her fingers on the table, she fixed her sights on cleaning her room instead. She rifled through the kitchen cabinets first, and while she found a surprising and unfamiliar array of tinned food, there were no cleaning supplies. The closest thing she found was a damp and musty-smelling roll of paper towels.

Who  _ did _ do the cleaning in the castle, anyway? An unwanted image of Jane wielding a feather duster made her laugh aloud. The girl-come-woman scared the crap out of her, but Jane wouldn’t know, and Bella would enjoy that image for a while. She tried the same technique on other members of the guard. It felt good to laugh, but she knew it would feel better to accomplish something physical.

She expanded her search to the bathroom with the same fruitless results. Not having yet explored the rooms adjacent to her own, she stepped into the rotunda, knocking first, and then poking her head into each chamber. When no one objected, she entered but still didn’t find anything with which she could clean. She avoided Gianna’s room, which she’d since learned was the last one to the right.

Demetri had explained that the rooms closest to the human apartments were for storage. Perhaps she would find something there? Of course, she wasn’t sure where the storage section ended and the spaces appointed to vampires began. But surely, the first four rooms outside the rotunda would be safe, wouldn’t they?

She knocked anyway, just to be sure, her heart racing slightly as she opened the first one. Jackpot. It was full of cleaning supplies. She was just picking up a broom, mop, bucket, and rags when a cold voice made her freeze.

“What are you doing?” it asked.

Very, very slowly, she turned her head. Partly blocking the door was a tall figure whose pale hair sprouted outwards in a fine, misty corona. His skin was so translucent, it almost glowed. He wore a deep brown robe, the kind she imagined on a monk, except it was almost shapeless, made of—she wasn’t sure what—but some sort of rough material that she imagined would be described as sackcloth.

The vampire stared, his expression neutral.

“Cleaning,” Bella said. As with all vampires, she was wary, but at least this one didn’t make her hackles rise.

“You do not need to clean,” the man said, stating this like a fact.

“I want to clean,” she replied. He hadn’t told her she couldn’t, and she felt strangely and possibly unwisely emboldened.

“This is the work of the lower order.”

_ The lower order? _

“What’s that?” Bella asked. “And who are you?”

“I am Marcus the Lesser of the lower order. I am one of the castle and book keepers.”

“You’re one of the librarians.” Demetri had mentioned them but dismissively. She’d known there was something to the description but had been so overwhelmed that first day, she hadn't pursued it.

“You took a book,” Marcus observed.

“I only borrowed it,” Bella said defensively.

“You are permitted to. I mention it as it distinguishes you from the others who have stayed here.”

“I’m Bella,” she added, feeling she should be known as more than the human who borrows books.

“I know.”

They stared at each other, Bella feeling more awkward than he seemed to look.

“You do not need to clean.”

“But I want to.” She didn’t break eye contact, and she wished she didn’t have to blink. “What’s ‘the lower order’?” He seemed willing to answer questions. She’d take whatever information she could get.

“I will answer your questions, but please come outside.” He stepped aside, giving her room to leave.

There was something in the way he said it that made her realize he might get in trouble if she did do some cleaning.

“Okay.” She put back the supplies hurriedly and then slipped by him into the hall, trying not to lose sight of him. Vampires had a habit of disappearing on her, and this one was different. She didn’t want to lose track of him.

In the brighter light of the hallway, she saw that his paleness was not just that of his nature but that he was an albino, too. His eyes were the palest pink. He would certainly draw attention in human company. She wondered if he ever left the castle. His clothing certainly wouldn’t blend in outside of it.

“Have you found a deficiency in the cleaning of your room?” he asked her, closing the door behind him.

“Not at all,” she said, still staring. “I’m just used to doing my own cleaning.”

“We do this work.” His eyes didn’t leave hers, and his gaze seemed just as wary as her own. 

“How come you’re talking to me? No one else does. Just . . .” She didn’t name Demetri, afraid the word might summon him.

“Your intended, yes. It would be unseemly for others to interact with you. The lower order serves. We do not mate.”

Bella was beginning to understand a tiny bit more of vampire culture, and she liked it less and less the more she found out. “Oh,” she said, not sure how to acknowledge this classist inequity or her distaste for it.

“Do you require anything else?”

“No, I, um . . . it was nice to talk to you.”

The vampire stared at her.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that?

“I don’t get to speak with many . . . people here.” She felt stupid saying it, but it was true.

He looked away, obviously uncomfortable with their interaction. “If you require assistance, I am usually in the library during the daylight hours.”

“Okay,” she said. “Wait, how many of you are there?”

“We mirror the guard, my lady, so that we might serve them. If there is nothing else . . . ?”

“No, thank you,” she said. He was gone before the last word finished leaving her lips.

She walked slowly back to her room, mulling over what she’d learned. As she nibbled on an apple, she contemplated what the life of a member of the lower order was like. Were they all like Marcus? The Lesser, she reminded herself. God, how pretentious was that? It certainly suggested the other was greater, but the Volturi were nothing but pretentious. They ruled the vampire world. It made sense that this hierarchy was reflected in their own dwelling.

The lesser vampires cleaned and kept the library. What else did they do?

The darker parts of her mind hinted at what they must be responsible for, and she skirted those thoughts. More blandly, she wondered if they did the laundry as well. Any clothing she wore disappeared no matter where she put it, returned neatly a day or two later, clearly clean for all that she could tell. While no familiar detergent-like scents permeated any fabric, the garments appeared almost as new, pressed and tidily hung or folded in her wardrobe. 

Vampire maids, she told herself. The image of Jane and her feather duster vanished. She imagined an endless life of permanent service, cleaning. Perhaps that would be her fate.

Of course, she told herself, there was an easy enough way out of that, remembering how she’d pushed Edward out of the way of the sunlight.

_ Don’t be so morbid _ , she scolded herself. But it was hard not to be, living with vampires.

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts away. Settling herself into her studying, she tried to focus, but for all her efforts she failed, thoughts of the strange vampire and his brotherhood of cleaners filling her mind instead.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	9. Librarians

Posted 2020-07-20

* * *

Arriving at his usual time to take her to dinner, Demetri had dismissed her interaction with Marcus when she mentioned it, wrinkling his forehead after she asked a question about the underling’s status. 

“They are the lower order. You need not concern yourself with them or their work.” His voice had held all of its usual notes of condescension along with some extra.

“But they run the library?”

“They manage the collection. It is menial work.” 

She had dropped the thread of conversation, seeing his disapproval. He’d then moved on to his preferred topic: himself. She’d made the mistake of politely asking him about his own history over dinner one night, and he’d responded by beginning his life’s story and then going on from there. In detail. While there many aspects of his story that were interesting, Bella discovered very quickly that he was a tedious story teller, and it was a slow march through his life’s minutiae. She’d listened with interest at first, this wilting as she watched his self-interest blossom. He had been alone in all the ways that mattered for a very long time, and because of it, he had become a very self-centred creature. She’d tried to retain a sympathetic view, but that had been obliterated by his retelling of his many initial conquests—physical, intellectual, and . . . gustatory. Now she feigned polite interest, the benefit of which was that it kept him from pressing her for details of her own life or in furthering his stated goals. Less fortunately, it was undeniably boring to watch him verbally limp through the minutely narrated existence he seemed fond of recalling. 

Demetri had not appeared to notice her less than enthusiastic interest, and she wondered if her attempts at subterfuge were improving or if he was simply oblivious to reading anything more than her physiological reactions.

It was now just over two weeks into her time in Volterra, and she stared at her window, trying to see through the thin glass. The wall of water that ran down it stymied her view. She thought she’d seen rain at home in Forks, but it was nothing compared to the torrents in front of her now. Wrapping the blanket from the bed around her, she sighed and decided that breakfast in her room was in order. The Conti’s little café had become a tiny bubble of cosy familiarity, and she looked forward to the brief, though friendly—and just friendly—interactions she had there. After Demetri’s reaction the first day, she was very, very careful not to encourage anything beyond polite customer-waiter conversation with the two men who worked there. 

“God it’s cold,” she muttered, pulling out a loaf of bread and some jam from the tiny fridge. 

She was munching through her frigid sandwich, still huddled in her blanket, when there was a knock at the door.

Demetri never knocked, and he usually only arrived just before he took her to dinner. She was still too chilled to put the blanket down, so she answered the door with it wrapped around her.

A vampire Bella did not recognize stood before her. If the clothing signified his class, it was one of lower order. “I am sorry to disturb you, my lady.” He spoke softly, his small stature and unremarkable appearance making Bella almost gape. He looked so . . . normal. Even his eyes were that pale pink she’d seen on Marcus.

“Can I help you?” she asked, feeling almost sorry for the man. He was partially stooped over, holding a basket of wood and paper with one arm, the other supporting it. Was something wrong with him?

“I neglected to light your fire. I will do so now, if it does not disturb you.”

“Um, I don’t have a fireplace,” Bella said, wishing she did.

He smiled tentatively. “Ah, may I?” He looked towards the inside of the room.

“Of course.” She stood aside, curious to know what he was going to do.

He walked with something like a limp, his back stiff with—yes, she recognized that posture—pain. 

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You seem . . . hurt.” It was strange to say. Perhaps he had been injured . . . in a fight?

“I am well, thank you,” he replied softly.

Then he reached up to grab the upper end of a tapestry that hung between the two small loveseats in her room, the cuff of his robe falling back to reveal his arms. The one with which he’d carried the wood had a faint red line that marked the joint between forearm and elbow. He lifted and folded the tapestry, setting it aside and revealing a fireplace that sat flush with the wall.

“Huh,” she said.

He built a tidy structure of paper, kindling, and logs. Bella thought, with a lurch in her heart, that Charlie would approve. They’d built such fires with—and there was another stab—Jacob. While she’d received the most cursory of notes from her father, she hadn’t heard back from Jacob, and it was growing more difficult to believe that the delay was because of possible problems with international mail. The vampire lit a match and then set it to the fire, standing and pulling the hanging metal screen across the opening to keep in any sparks. There was a tiny alcove beside the fireplace in which rested a set of heavy-looking tools. 

“What’s your name?” she asked the stranger in front of her.

“Erastus.” He eyed her nervously.

“Thank you for the fire, Erastus, I really appreciate it.”

He nodded. “I will return to tend it as needed.”

“Do you work in the library, too?” she asked, curious.

“We all do, as required.”

And while she wanted to ask more questions, she could see he was eager to leave. He seemed to be afraid of her. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you. And, thank you again.” She looked towards the hearth. “It’s nice to be warm.” She set her blanket on the bed, approaching the fire. Erastus moved away quickly, nodding in her direction and then vanishing from the room.

“At least they all have that in common.” She sighed.

She didn’t leave the fire for the rest of the morning, the sound of it and the rain providing a kind of company she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed. Of course, it would have all been better with a hot drink. To this end, she filled one of the kitchen’s small ceramic mugs with water, and nudged it towards the ashes that had accumulated by the fire. When she pulled it out with the fire hook a half-hour later, she was delighted to find herself with hot water.

It made her pause, that small happiness. She was happy that she had hot water to drink in her room.

“That’s okay,” she told herself. She had to repeat that phrase to herself a few times, silently.

_ Things could be much, much worse. _

Having thought that, it became much easier to think about those worse things.

She put the cup down and stood, throwing open the wardrobe doors, selecting something quickly, and then showering and dressing just as hastily. Grabbing the book of poems from her shelf, she ducked into the beginning of the castle’s maze. 

She had the route to the main entrance memorized now, and if she recalled correctly, the path to the library was not so many turns from it. But, Bella reminded herself as she made her way back to the reception area for a third time, it was many turns she didn’t remember. On her fifth attempt, she was successful, vibrating with a kind of excitement that she had never felt for simply  _ finding _ a library before.

The large room was deathly silent as she pushed open the door, but as Demetri had promised, it was so many times more beautiful than when she’d seen it in the dark. The room was ringed with an upper balcony of dark polished wood that shone against its carved stone walls. The central steps to the lower levels were brightly lit, no darkness threatening to swallow her as it had that first night Demetri had shown it to her.

Bella held the book to her chest, as if it were a token that earned her entry. Now she felt like she could say she almost knew the librarians. She’d met two of them, hadn’t she?

They hadn’t scared the crap out of her, either.

She considered calling out to see if anyone was there but decided it was better to go in search instead. She saw no one as she walked the circumference of the whole room and its stacks and no one as she descended the stairs though her eyes did linger over the grotesque crest that decorated the lip of the upper floor.

No luck by the card catalogue. She half expected to find a circulation desk, chuckling silently at her own unhumorous joke, but as she wandered to the southern end of the second subfloor, she did find a giant lectern, the book upon it a weighty and intimidating tome with pages that stretched out longer than her arm. She peered at the faint text, pulling in a sharp breath. Her name sat neatly printed on a line. Her real name. She scanned up the page but could only guess at the language of the column headings. They weren’t in Italian or Latin, and they weren’t in Greek. Beyond that . . . but her curiosity gripped her, and she flipped back another page. In the column that had held her name, she found others. A few she recognized—Marcus, Renata—and a few she did not. She kept flipping. And then she found the name she’d thought she might. Written in neat and faded script was ‘Carlisle Cullen.’ She traced her finger over the words.

The feeling that swept over her was unexpected, and she found herself stepping back, her own borrowed book left beside the register. She wiped at her eyes, and then she felt stupid. It was just a name. It was  _ just _ a name.

But it was the name of a man for whom she’d had profound respect . . . and feeling. He had been so much like a father to her, too. And while her hurt feelings had minutely tarred every other Cullen, she could not find it in herself to think poorly of Carlisle. She missed him still, despite everything that had happened.

“Is something wrong?” Erastus stood before her, his hands clenched worriedly together. 

“No,” she said, trying to hide her shock from his sudden appearance. “I’m just—I just saw a name I recognized. I hope I didn’t get your book wet—”

“You did not,” he said. His voice was very gentle. Something about him put her oddly at ease. She wondered if he were gifted. He peered over the book. “Which name, may I ask?”

She was surprised by the question. He’d seemed so nervous before, but now he appeared much more at ease though slightly shy. “Carlisle Cullen,” she answered.

“Ah,” Erastus said. He smiled. “He was a frequent visitor here. There are many entries. At one time I had wondered if we would need a new book, but then . . . “ His smile faded.

“It sounds like you miss him too,” Bella said.

Erastus’ gaze dropped slightly as did his voice. He looked around as if assuring himself of something. “He made no distinction between his treatment of us and the guard. He was . . . rare.”

“He still is,” Bella said. She thought of how he’d treated her. There had been no condescension, and by virtue of her youth, ignorance, and actions, Bella had felt she’d more than earned it at times, but Carlisle had been an unbroken source of respect and gentleness.

“I see you have your book,” Erastus said after a moment.

“Well, it’s your book, but I’ve read it a few times. I thought I should bring it back.”

Erastus smiled, a very sad smile. “If you wish to continue to read it, you may. You are the first to take it from the shelf. It gives me pleasure to see her poems read.”

“Why is that?” Bella asked.

“I like poetry,” he said, almost shyly, “and her mortal life was not so long. Her immortal one was much shorter.”

Bella’s jaw hung open for several moments. “Emily Dickinson—she—”

“Was not made for this life.” His gaze now sat squarely on the floor, the universal sign to stop asking questions. His arm was extended fully, the book ready for her to take again.

As soon as her hand wrapped around the small volume, Erastus was gone.

His brief bombshell had left her with what felt like a thousand questions and several keen regrets. She’d upset him, obviously, but she wasn’t sure how. More importantly, she tried to fathom how it was that the two members of the so-called ‘lower order’ seemed so unthreatening. They were vampires after all, but there was something fundamentally different about  _ how  _ they were. It was another mystery she tucked away to unravel at another time.

Book in hand, she walked back to the card catalogue. She wanted something else to read, but she wasn’t sure exactly what. Opening the first box to her right, she pulled out a long line of Q’s. Knowing she was more likely to find Quintus whoever and their treaty in Latin, she pushed it back, settling for the other side instead, where she pulled out the C’s. And just because she didn’t have enough ghosts in her head to upset herself with, she looked for ‘Cullen.’ And she found it under an elegant cursive ‘Cullen, Carlisle.’

“Huh.” The card listed information in Italian, most of which was obviously written in abbreviations, none of which she understood. “How the heck do I find that?”

She heard the footsteps before the pale creature appeared, and she wished that all vampires could learn to approach humans so audibly. 

“May I assist you?” Marcus asked.

“Er—yes, please. I’m looking for this.” Bella held up the card.

“Which one, signorina?” he asked politely.

“There’s more than one?”

“Dottore Cullen was a prolific contributor to our collection. There are several cards under his name.”

Bella felt a bit stupid for not checking. “Um . . .”

“Perhaps his treatise on the nature of our kind would be of interest to you?”

Damn right it would be.

“Please.”

“And is there anything else you would like to read that I might fetch for you?”

Bella paused for a moment, considering her likely options.

Marcus spoke softly. “I saw your book of Jane Austen’s works. We have an early edition of her unfinished novel,  _ The Brothers _ , and a unique copy of her niece’s continuation of it, if you would like to read it.”

A unique copy, as in the  _ only _ copy, Bella realized. “I couldn’t, if it’s the only edition—”

“It is no trouble for us to produce a facsimile for you. I will leave it in your room when it is ready. For now, I will bring you the dottore’s treatise. If you wait upstairs, I believe you will find the seating more to your liking.” He smiled gently, holding an open palm towards the stairs. Then he was gone.

And so she found herself seated in a very hard chair at an equally hard table, waiting, the poems of one dead, and apparently after that not-so-dead, Emily Dickinson to keep her company. Marcus delivered the treatise to her, pausing as he put the leather-bound book on the table. “Sound in the castle generally travels quite well. It is impossible for our kind not to hear everything almost everywhere except in the library. While some sound will filter out of this room, it was built for its silence, and the silencing is almost perfect in the lower levels. So if you require assistance, we will hear you within the library, but no one outside of it will hear more than simply sound if you were to call out.” Then he nodded and was gone.

Bella shuddered at the threat implied. And here she’d thought that these two vampires were somehow benign.  _ Stupid _ , she told herself. 

And then she thought about it again. They had helped her. They hadn’t done anything to threaten her. Perhaps Marcus’s words were simply informational. Perhaps he was only telling her that sound didn’t travel. 

And perhaps that was why Erastus was so free with his words when they had spoken downstairs.

Perhaps.

Her fingers seemed to itch, though, and while she remained a human in a nest of vampires, she was also a human with Carlise’s words before her, and their lure was more powerful in that moment than her desire to speculate or fear. She opened the book and began reading.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	10. Words

Posted 2020-07-21

* * *

" _. . . It is to the mortal form that the soul clings, the immortal one releasing it in transformation. Our inceptions are surely a death, but not a holy one. For this fleshly immortality, we exchange our mortal souls, and give up all hope of heaven."_

Bella stared at the text. She flipped back to the front again. Yes, by one Carlisle Cullen, or so it claimed. She was barely a few sections in, but she could practically hear his voice reading it. But this . . . she remembered their last conversation so vividly. Carlisle had been so clear. He believed in a merciful God though he had admitted his hope went against the grain. Had he been so bleak early on?

The notion gave her hope. If his beliefs could change, then others of his kind could shift their beliefs, too. Like . . . Edward.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself. It was more than a traitorous thought. It was the epitome of self-delusion. She might as well call herself Demetri if she were to think this way.

It clawed at her, the constant yearning. For all that she'd experienced, she held onto the foolish hope that things might change. Even though Edward had wounded her so deeply with his leaving and now assisted Demetri with his damned experiment, she could not uproot the hopeful feeling, belief, idiocy, whatever it was, from inside herself.

"Stupid," she said again for good measure.

She flipped ahead several pages in Carlisle's book.

" _Members are selected when human, chosen for their profound obsequience, placid natures, and balanced humours. The systems of human ranking are immaterial in this process, and not a few are of royal or noble lineage—"_

She flipped back the page, searching for some kind of subheading, touching her finger to the page when she found it: "The Lower Orders."

" _Made to serve the guard, the lower order is replenished when the guard and its serving members are extinguished. The guard's personal attendants are destroyed at the end of their existence."_

Bella had to read the passage twice to absorb what it said. She sincerely hoped the practise had changed in time though given what she knew of the Volturi, she doubted their ideas or habits would have been affected by any sort of human modernity.

Below the text sat a grotesque illustration of a body restrained and bent over an anvil-shaped platform. Bella did not read the caption, closing the book instead. She'd learned enough of the Volturi's history and Carlisle's thoughts for one day.

A log in the fire split and cracked, making her jump a little in her chair. She'd not ventured outside for the better part of two days, but the weather, though cool, seemed to be clearing. Kneeling by the fire, she prodded the errant log back in place, amusing herself by nudging at other pieces. While there was little she could physically accomplish, she could toy with the fire before her, pretending she had more than just a tiny part in curating its existence.

In a squat on her haunches, she watched the flames and sparks lick and fly. The syncopated snap and pop of the wood's resin was homey and gratifyingly mesmerizing.

"The fire seems to please you," Demetri said.

She closed her eyes briefly. At least he'd spoken quietly. Perhaps he was attempting not to startle her to death after all.

"It's lovely," she said, standing and facing him. She meant it. The Tuscan spring was a cool one, and she hadn't felt fully warm since she'd arrived.

"Good," Demetri said. "I've seen to it that it will not be forgotten about again."

Something in the way he said it, some tiny satisfied curl in his lip, made her body tense with apprehension. "Oh?"

"I detached the creature's dominant arm and reattached it for him. He will not forget. Our venom," and here he traced his dry finger over her folded arms, "while it may tingle pleasantly for you, has a nasty sting when used to heal our kind."

Bella thought of Erastus and his arm, the red line now making ugly sense.

"Oh," she said again.

"The weather has cleared. You have not left the castle for some time. I thought you might enjoy seeing some of the city and perhaps having some lunch."

She was still thinking of Erastus's arm, but Demetri's hand had captured her own. She stared at where they were linked. "That sounds great," she said, hoping it sounded like she meant it.

They walked outside, his arm snaked around her own. He hadn't pressed her for conversation, and she hadn't worked to make any. She had learned to appreciate his silence, and she did not relish the relinquishing of it now though her curiosity made her do so.

"You've told me of much of your earlier life," Bella began, "but you haven't told me what you do for the Volturi."

"I find people who need finding," he replied, steering her to the left as they crossed the street.

The pressure of his arm cut into her own. She had a near constant sore spot on the inner part of her bicep. He'd learned to be gentler with his grip but not in how his stony body interacted with her own. If he ever noticed the bruise there when she wore sleeveless dresses, he said nothing.

 _At least he hasn't removed my arm,_ she thought.

"What do you mean 'find' people?" she asked.

"I doubt the term will mean much to you, but I'm a tracker." He waved her towards the doorway of a small restaurant.

Her stomach dropped, and she nearly tripped. Demetri lifted her with his arm, keeping her from falling but pushing his arm into her soft flesh again.

A tracker. Like James.

"A tracker."

"I see what I hunt. I can picture where they are. It is quite pleasurable, hunting. Like a—"

"Game," Bella said. She couldn't help herself. Edward's words were floating through her head.

"You do know the term, then." He lifted an eyebrow, sitting down across from her at the table.

"I was hunted by one," she said, looking up and meeting his gaze.

"And yet here you are." He tilted his head, the angle of it as inhuman as his hard flesh. "How did that come to pass?"

"Edward killed him after he very nearly killed me."

"Really," Demetri said. He brought a glass of water to his lips, as if pretending to drink. "You are pale, though, my Bella. Let us speak of something else."

And because she'd given him some crumb he could pursue with . . . Edward, she knew she'd built a bridge she could cross for more information. "I visited the library."

"And did you find any new literary friends?" he asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

She quirked an eyebrow at his reference to her reading. "Yes, a few."

"Good." His reply suggested the end rather than the beginning of a conversation.

"One of the librarians told me that Emily Dickinson was immortal."

"Perhaps," Demetri said.

"How would they know that?" she asked.

"They keep the book of justice." He flicked a speck of something off of the tabletop.

"Which is . . . ?"

"It is a record of those who have faced our justice, their name and their crime."

Given what she knew of Volturi justice, she didn't suppose there would be any need to record the sentence. It would be the same.

"They must know a lot, the Lower Order," Bella said. She, too, took a sip of her water, eyeing him.

"You are curious, my love. This is a tribute to your mind, but your curiosity will be better served when you are immortal. And I hope it will have better taste than to wonder after the creatures whose only existence is a menial one. Let me tell you something more of the guard's history. I have neglected your education there."

He began, his tone shifting to that dreary exposition that was arduous to follow through his turgid prose.

Bella wanted to bang her head against the table but forced herself to look at him and try to absorb what he was saying, for as brutally boring as it was, it was information, and she never knew when some crucial piece would be dispensed through one of his tedious lectures.

And so she listened to his dull tale, stabbing at her lunch when it came, wondering just how much more she could learn from the Lower Order and if that knowledge would help her someday escape the bargain she had made—or to help Edward escape.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	11. Hunger

A/N for 2020-07-23: As always, my sincerest thanks to chayasara for beta-ing this story. I know a few of you have been asking for more Edward. You get a taste of him here. Don't blame me for my terrible pun at the end of this chapter ;-)

Also, if any of you would like to meet yours truly via Zoom, you can do on September 5, 2020 at 8 PM Central time (North America). I'm participating in this series of Zoom 'meet-your-favourite-fandom-author' program to help raise funds for fandom writer Carey Anne Williams, who has been suffering with and recovering from Covid-19 for several months now. How do you join the Zoom call? Make at least a $5 donation to Carey's go-fund-me page and then email Authors4carey AT gmail DOT com. You can find more information and links in my FaceBook group, FlamingMaple's Stories.

Happy reading, all!

Erin

* * *

Bella was just walking back inside the front door, shaking off the rain from her umbrella when an icy female voice rose to greet her.

"Aro wants you. Now."

She froze momentarily and then continued rattling off the drops of water from her umbrella, trying to hide the ostensible tremble in her hand.

"Now," Jane said again.

Bella looked at her then. The disturbingly young vampire appeared self-satisfied, smug, almost. This could not be good.

Without moving her eyes from Bella, Jane added, "You too, Gianna."

Bella heard the sharp intake of air from the other side of the reception desk.

Neither of the human women said anything, walking in the direction that Jane gestured.

Bella led the trio, glancing back only once to confirm that she was not alone in some practical joke. No. Jane's mouth hitched up at the corner, some cruel entertainment brewing in her eyes.

No, not good.

They were several turns into their progress when Jane remarked casually, "I should have fetched you a chocolate bar, Gianna." Then she laughed.

Bella turned back briefly, enough to see Gianna's shoulders begin to shake with unsteady breaths. She didn't understand the significance of Jane's comment, and she decided she didn't want to.

When she'd left the audience chamber the last time, it had been so hurriedly that Bella had not quantified the length of time or space it took to walk from it. Now the distance seemed to stretch and shrink all at once, long and yet not long enough to forestall the ultimate destination. The door loomed before them, opening silently to an equally silent assemblage.

Bella tried very hard not to stare at Edward, who stood adjacent to Aro, his hand resting on top of Aro's upturned palm.

"Thank you, Jane," Aro said, releasing Edward's hand. "Felix, please."

Bella tensed. Felix's job had been a mortal one the last time she'd been here, but he simply slipped from the room, and Bella's gaze snapped back to Edward. His look was distant, fixed somewhere on the wall behind and left of Bella.

It shouldn't surprise her, she chided herself, but even this visual rejection stung. She looked away, scanning the room before settling her focus on the safe territory of the floor. She'd caught sight of Demetri a few bodies from her. The room was full of what she presumed were guard members, grey cloaks denoting some sort of formal occasion.

Bella hoped that her death or transformation did not qualify as formal occasions.

Beside her, Bella could feel Gianna quivering with terror. Glancing over, her eyes confirmed the physical tremble.

Perhaps they were both at the end of their usefulness. While Bella was afraid, she'd been so to varying degrees since the day she'd arrived. Partially habituated to the unpleasant alertness in her flesh, she took stock of the other feelings swirling around her memories of this room. Fear yes, but relief, too. She'd saved Edward here, in a manner of speaking. She added grief to the list of her feelings.

"My newest guard member seems loath to eat with us," Aro said. "And here we have his singer and our lovely Gianna and—ah, Felix, thank you."

Bella had heard the approaching sounds but being so otherwise preoccupied hadn't really parsed them. She did now. The smell that accompanied the noises was hard to miss. The deer in Felix's arms was grunting and wheezing, straining in his arms, its urine dripping onto Felix's cloak.

There were titters from other members of the guard as Felix set the animal down in the midst of the room, frowning as he backed away. He gave Edward a dirty look.

"So, Edward, you refuse our excellent offerings. And when I have sent you to hunt, you've returned hungry. Here you have an admirable choice of meals. Which will it be?"

Bella's gaze had abandoned the floor and was now riveted on Edward's face. The disgust there as their eyes met was unmistakable, and the realization of what her bargain had done cut her like a knife. Her own life was hers, but she'd tied Edward's to Aro's. She'd tied him to the Volturi, and now he would be forced to watch them . . . She shivered, remembering the sounds from the room as she and Alice had left. He was miserable. And now he was being taunted—and cruelly so—for his misery.

What had she done?

Her mental _I'm so sorry_ was a feeble whimper against the rage that brewed in Edward's features. She didn't dare speak the words aloud for fear of what repercussions they might bring down on Edward.

Gianna's shaking hand reached out and gripped Bella's now still one.

She was extending the same apologetic empathy towards Gianna when the sharp pain in her hand made her cry out, "Agh!"

Something like a hiss bubbled up from the bodies around the room, and Bella froze, hearing it, her injured hand halfway retracted to her chest. She didn't have to look to know she was bleeding—not much, but that didn't really matter in a room full of human-drinking vampires.

Demetri's back was now directly in front of her as he crouched and hissed while turning his head back and forth, taking in the room. Everyone else was perfectly still. Everyone except Edward.

She watched as he moved like a man walking through water. His movement was distorted and slow, fast and moderate, his steps silent over the room's stones. She remembered the way his elegant fingers had played the piano as they now untucked his shirt, neatly ripping off a nearly rectangular portion of it.

Demetri's hiss grew louder as Edward approached, cutting through Bella's stunned reverie.

Already twisted with disgust, Edward's mouth curled downwards even more profoundly as he neared Demetri and Bella. He pulled up Bella's arm by the sleeve of her shirt. His words, however, were clearly directed to Demetri. "Fingernail cuts can become easily infected. This should be carefully cleaned and disinfected and then let to air dry, or it may fester." He tied the piece of cloth around her hand without touching her skin.

Bella watched every movement of Edward's, his obvious revulsion and disinterest confirming her several fears: he hated her; he wanted nothing to do with her, and she had damned him with her bargain.

Edward's scorn seemed meant for Gianna. too, because he gave her just as dirty a look before he turned to face the deer.

The terrified deer had stopped making noise. It had been turning in constant circles as if trying to find some opening through which to escape this endless ring of predators. Now it stumbled in its stance, its head twitching with dizziness.

For all her horror at what she had done, Bella could not help but watch Edward. Under the thin cotton of his shirt, a wave of motion rippled over his back, and then that motion became a graceful lunge, the deer's throat in his mouth, its body twitching with wanted breaths and the final loss of control. While Edward's elegance was beautiful, the smell of the animal's blood, urine, and excrement was nauseating.

It was over in what felt like seconds, Edward dropping the carcass and striding out of the room.

If there were more words from Aro, Bella did not hear them as Demetri propelled her from the space, his hand a painful vice on her arm.

She only realized he was speaking to her when he repeated her name.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Does it feel clean?" he asked.

They were in her room. He'd washed her hand. "Yes," she managed, looking down at her palm. It was a tiny cut. _Gianna must have long nails_ , she thought. Yes, she did; she was sure. She'd seen her filing them at the desk.

"Which is the disinfectant?" Demetri asked.

She looked at the first aid kit he'd pulled from somewhere in her room. The brand names were all unfamiliar, but the small bottle of clear liquid seemed a likely guess. "Rubbing alcohol," she said softly, touching the bottle with her finger.

Demetri opened it and poured it onto her hand, making her flinch and hiss.

"This is painful?" he asked.

"A little, yes," Bella admitted. The sting wouldn't last.

"This is not correct. He lied." He was angry. Angry at Edward.

"No," she said quickly. "This is how to clean a wound. It just stings. There's no helping it."

Demetri's shoulders seemed to relax a little but not all the way. "If you are certain."

"I am."

He packed away the medical supplies, and Bella kept her hand palm up on the table. The piece of cloth her hand had been wrapped in had disappeared. She wished she could have kept it.

"Are you otherwise well?" Demetri asked. His gaze was moving over her, the way a man's gaze would appraise damage to a car.

"I'm fine," Bella lied.

"I am sorry you were subjected to that. It was an unnecessary entertainment." As for whose benefit the entertainment was, Bella did not have to guess. That much was clear.

Instead, she wondered how Gianna was doing and if she felt awful or relieved. Did it really matter? She was no friend of Bella's. And it was better in this place to know where everyone stood.

Where Edward stood was very clear.

Bella closed her eyes. _It's not a surprise,_ she told herself. But it was. She'd hoped in vain, and now she was reaping her reward.

Demetri's hand felt cold against her hot cheek. "Do you believe me now that he is not your mate?"

Oh, how it hurt to admit it. "Yes."

Demetri's other hand came to rest on the other side of her head. "I can smell your tears, my Bella."

She nodded, making his arms shift too.

"This is a good thing to know. Your affections are free for another."

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. He had the emotional subtlety of a battering ram and the arrogance commensurate with it, too.

"Am I not correct?"

Her stomach lurched. He wanted confirmation. She offered the barest she could, fearful of provoking or encouraging his desires. "He doesn't want me; I know."

She refused to open her eyes, hoping and wishing that Demetri would just depart and leave her alone. After a few moments of stubborn blindness, his hands slipped away to take her uninjured hand, kissing its palm. "I must attend to my work. I will see you later for dinner. You know how to dress."

She nodded, daring to open her eyes a crack. When they were fully open, he was gone. And then she felt free to let her tears loose, her mind scrambling against the grief that wanted to consume it, straining for any kind of way to undo the damage her bargain had done.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	12. Eurydice

A/N for 2020-07-24: While reader responses regularly delight me, sometimes they surprise me, too, and there were a few surprises in your comments from yesterday's chapter.

As always, much gratitude to chayasara for beta-ing this story.

Erin

* * *

Bella was tired. In the few weeks since she'd been yanked into the audience chamber, her nights had been fraught with fresh nightmares, broken sleep broken and then broken again.

She yawned at her desk, rubbing her face in her hands. The two coffees she'd consumed were no match against her drowsiness, and she eyed the bed behind her. Sleep would be so much easier than the math she was trying to teach herself.

"Just a short nap," she told herself, lying down in the bed.

But sleep didn't come easily, and when she began to dream, part of her understood that she had succumbed to a far deeper somnolence than she'd intended.

It _was_ a dream, the kind of which she welcomed. The melody Edward had written and then played for her was the softest suggestion of sound in her mind, barely audible, but as recognizable as he was.

In her dream, Edward's face was perfect, eyes light, hands steady on her waist, their cold flutter drifting up her back like the most delicate snow. Each touch was a flake melting into her skin.

Oh, she realized, it was one of _those_ dreams. Her body, even in sleep, anticipated these wishful, sleep-induced fantasies, where reality ended and wistful hopes began.

Edward's lips ghosted a line of kisses over her jaw, and her breathing hitched between each touch. Her hands clamped over his shoulders, trying to squeeze into flesh that had no give.

But when their lips finally met, her body and mind both knew the sensation was wrong because they weren't Edward's lips.

Eyes flying open, Bella saw Demetri's face illuminated by the afternoon light, hovering just over her own.

"Oh my God!" she blurted out, shoving herself away, nearly falling from the mattress.

Demetri's hand snapped over her forearm and the other over her hip. "Careful, my Bella."

She shook him off as quickly as she could steady herself, standing and backing away from the bed.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her scrambled thoughts warning her too late that she was in no position to make such demands.

Demetri appeared unperturbed. He remained on the bed, resting his head on his hand. His reclining posture was utterly at ease, and he chuckled. "I thought I'd been invited. You were talking in your sleep, and you did say, 'I want you.'"

Bella's cheeks, already warm from slumber, flamed with indignation. "I was sleeping."

"I do enjoy watching you sleep, cara mia," Demetri said. "You say a great deal." He chuckled.

The heat in her face withered with realization. Yes, she did, and she also knew exactly who would have likely told Demetri as much and that he might gather insights this way. It wasn't new, this betrayal, but each fresh realization stung as much as the first. Edward hadn't just rejected her; he was using his knowledge to shove her and Demetri together.

"Aro said he always enjoyed watching Sulpicia in her slumber."

The abrupt segue jarred her. "What?"

"Aro's mate, Sulpicia. He found her when she was human, and he turned her."

The chill that ran up Bella's back had nothing to do with the temperature of her room.

"You are cold. Come back to bed."

She shook her head.

"You have not slept well of late." Demetri was abruptly standing beside her, his fingers caging her shoulders, nudging her back to the bed. "You should sleep."

So physically compelled, she could not refuse him, and once at the bed, didn't think it wise to resist. Creating circumstances that entailed being forced into a bed by any man, vampire or otherwise, seemed poorly thought out in the extreme.

Once she had the covers pulled up, she watched him lean over her. She shrank from the contact, nervously exhaling when his lips only brushed her forehead. "I will take you to see the opera tonight, so rest well, my Bella."

She did not sleep more. Who would after such a wakening?

By the time the evening had fallen, she was increasingly twitchy and nervous, jumping when Demetri appeared in her room.

"Are you so excited, my dear, for me to take you to the opera?"

She avoided the question. "I've never been to the opera."

He chuckled, putting his hands on her shoulders, nuzzling her hair. "Then I am delighted to introduce you to this experience."

She shivered at the touch, hoping this was the extent of their physical contact. But her hope was in vain. Instead of looping their arms, he slipped his arm around her waist, pressing her hip against his stony one and matching her gait. She wanted to flinch, to shove, to push him away, but she made herself stay calm and think instead.

"Ow," she said, lying, putting a hand to her hip.

"What is it?"

She rubbed at her side, smiling, pretending to laugh. "It's like bumping up against a stone wall, walking beside you like that."

"I see," he said, holding his arm out for her to take.

She did, glad to have evaded the greater physical intimacy.

At dinner, she eyed the menu and then Demetri with a small internal smile. "You know," she began, "I've never had a man order my meals for me before coming here. At least, not since I was small enough that I couldn't actually read. When you do, it reminds me of having dinner with my dad."

Demetri had already ordered the wine. As with every other time, it was red. Though she had come to appreciate that there were different qualities of wine she could discern, the flavour was one she associated with her present company and not one she enjoyed.

"Then you should order for yourself," Demetri replied smoothly. He gestured to the menu.

 _Finally_ , Bella thought. But still, she exhaled a little. It was a teeter-totter, really, being near Demetri. Her body never let her forget just how lethal he was, but the rest of her objected to his domineering company. It was a fine line to walk, keeping him appeased—letting her body react the way it should.

"You seem to be enjoying the library," Demetri remarked.

She glanced up from the menu, wary. After what she'd learned of Erastus's treatment at Demetri's hands, she didn't want to endanger him more with any of Demetri's displeasure. "I am," she said. She pretended to sip at her wine, knowing this would placate him a little.

"What texts have amused you of late?"

She couldn't lie, but she wanted to. "Dottore Cullen's _Treatise on Vampires_."

Demetri smiled. "This should not surprise me, but it does. You wish to hear his thoughts, an aberration of our kind? And one who abandoned you?"

"Are there other texts you would recommend on the subject? In English?" she asked.

"Servatian's thoughts are much more orthodox. It will be of no matter to have it translated for you. I look forward to discussing your opinion of his ideas. You must be sure to read it."

Her heart sank. He was assigning reading now?

She busied herself with her food, which was very good—better even for having been something of her own choosing. With a lull in their conversation, she scanned the room, noting again the several stylish haircuts that filled the room. Flipping her own now very long hair back over her shoulders, she continued to look, wondering which style would suit her best.

"None of them are so beautiful as you," Demetri said quietly.

It was hard enough to graciously accept compliments from people she loved. Hearing them from Demetri made her skin crawl.

She cleared her throat. "Hmm. I was just thinking it was past time to have my own hair cut."

"No," Demetri said. He shook his head dismissively as he put down his glass. "Leave your hair long."

"Uh—"

"Short hairstyles for women are nothing but a whim of this century. It will be far better for you to keep your hair long, so do not cut it." Then he signalled to the waiter, waving him over to refill Bella's water glass.

She sat quietly fuming, supposing she should not be surprised by his management of even this aspect of her appearance. And yet, it had caught her off guard. With the pretense of smoothing out her napkin, she looked down, chastising herself for not having thought through to this very logical conclusion from what else she knew about him. She resolved not to be so unprepared again.

Dinner held no more unpleasant directives, and soon they were walking towards the opera house a short distance away. When they entered, Bella gasped in recognition.

"What is it?" Demetri asked.

Keeping the moment to herself, she lied. "It's so beautiful." And it was, but that wasn't why it struck her so. She'd seen the place depicted in Carlisle's study that first day she'd visited the Cullens' home. The disparity between the distaste for the present event and the happiness of that past moment was jarring.

"This is our box," Demetri said, escorting her to one of the side-balconies that afforded a clear view of the stage. It was curtained in such a way as to provide privacy from the balconies adjacent to it. Several couches were staggered on the steps so that she and Demetri had their choice of seating.

Demetri spoke quietly to the attendant, who disappeared, returning moments later with two small glasses of some ruby liquid and a silver tray of chocolates.

When Bella sat down on one of the couches, she chose her perch carefully, leaving space to either side so that if Demetri crowded her, she had room to evade his attention.

But Demetri avoided her measure by sitting down in the small space between Bella and the end of the couch, pulling her towards him with an arm around her waist. He waved away the woman who offered programs. His free hand teased at her exposed shoulder, fingers stroking lightly. "Do you know the story of Eurydice?"

"No," Bella said, though the name was vaguely familiar. She squirmed beside him, longing for a marginal bit of space. Demetri did not seem to notice.

"It is the story of two great lovers, Eurydice and Orpheus, when she is bitten by a snake," and here Demetri gnashed his teeth together, making Bella jump.

He chuckled, not pausing the twirling of his icy fingers over her skin. His face was close to hers, and he lowered his voice, continuing to purr out the plot. "Orpheus implores the god of love, Amore, to let him rescue his wife from the underworld. Amore agrees—on the condition that Orpheus not look at her until they return to the land of the living. But on the way back, though Eurydice follows Orpheus, she does not understand why he will not speak to or look at her, and he is forbidden from explaining the conditions of her release. She decides that death is better than living without him and stops walking. When Orpheus turns, having heard her steps end, she dies."

Something like a shudder rippled up Bella's back. She had much empathy for Eurydice.

"But the ending is not so dire, my Bella. Thinking his lover is gone forever, Orpheus decides to die rather than live without her. Amore is so moved by this love that he returns Eurydice to life, and she and Orpheus live a long and happy life together."

"Oh," Bella said, shivering under his touch.

"You are cold," he observed, removing his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. It was true, she was, but not just from his body sapping away her heat. His hand remained in place, sinking lower, curling around her ribcage, fingers just brushing the side of her breast.

Bella wiggled back, forcing his fingers away. He didn't attempt to reposition himself, and Bella let herself relax marginally.

The orchestra began its tuning, that familiar discord that made Bella, for all the other things she felt, feel some excitement too. She was going to see an opera, and even if it was tragic and even if she was seeing it with Demetri, she was determined to enjoy this novel experience—despite his potentially wandering fingers.

"You are excited, too," Demetri purred, close again.

 _Fucking vampires_ , Bella thought begrudgingly though smiling politely. "Yes."

Leaning over and taking a chocolate, she gave herself a moment of distance from his domineering frame. The rich flavour was its own seduction on her tongue, and a quiet "Mmm" slipped out of her mouth.

As if spurred by this sound, Demetri slipped his hand to her waist and began massaging gently.

She ignored it as much as she could, leaning forward to evade his touch, not needing to pretend interest in the opera. It was beautiful, and though she'd never imagined herself enjoying watching one, she was. In any other circumstances, she would be thrilled to have this experience. She was in Italy, watching an opera. It occurred to her that she was also in the company of someone who might have seen the original performed.

By the third act, she was still riveted to the scene but certainly more tired too. She'd sipped at the port, and its effects were noticeable. As she leaned back slightly, Demetri nudged her closer to himself, humming along to the aria being sung.

"You know the music," she said, hoping to distract him from further physical interaction.

"I have seen it performed many times. While my compatriots would consider it near sedition to say so, I prefer Gluck's version to Peri's and Caccini's." He laughed at his own joke, the sound vibrating through Bella's back. He resumed his humming again, which Bella really wished would stop as it interfered with the beauty of the performer she wanted to hear.

But Demetri kept humming quietly, one hand at her waist, the other now caressing her cheek and turning her face towards him.

She knew the significance of the movement and deliberately turned away as his lips kissed her jaw instead of her mouth. He did not attempt the gesture again, and Bella stared straight ahead, nervous and tense as the opera ended.

Demetri said nothing until the end, offering his hand to help her stand when the last bow was taken. "Are you ready to return?"

"Yes, please," Bella said, feeling that it was more important than ever to be polite. She didn't trust Demetri to keep such civility forever, but the longer she could let him play the gentleman, the longer she could keep him at arm's length.

But the act, as it were, ended a short distance from the opera house where a shadowy copse of trees and a stone arch gave him a place to push her back and press his lips against hers. She tensed, mouth unrepentantly closed against his. His tongue probed for entrance briefly and then retracted, leaving her light-headed, lips tingling.

He inhaled sharply, the darkness making the shadows on his face even darker. "You resist my affection, Bella." His voice was low and tenebrous.

With his body trapping her in place, there was no way to avoid his gaze. It was harder to lie believably. "I'm not . . . ready," she whispered.

Demetri sighed, moving back a fraction of an inch. "Why?"

She sought a pretty way to phrase whatever it was she was passing off as the truth since Demetri seemed to enjoy his own flowery wording. "The heart has its own will, and mine is no exception. If it would simply listen to my mind, I would be a much happier person. I am . . . trying." She was trying. Just not at what he wanted her to.

"Oh, my Bella. I am eager for your heart to become obedient. I will give you time but not forever." Without preamble, he stepped back, taking her hand and pulling her back towards the castle.

She went, not because she wanted to but because she had no choice, rapidly assessing what choices she did have left to her and how she might use them to find a way out of the bargain she had so poorly made.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	13. Nightmare

A/N for 2020-07-26. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and theories, folks. Many thanks to chayasara for beta-ing.

\- Erin

* * *

After his initial attempt to protect Bella's privacy, Edward learned that it was better to give Demetri the answers for which he hunted. That first time, Aro had cheerfully replied in Edward's place, the information given so twisted out of context that it was barely true but true enough that it would sting brutally in its application.

Edward had intervened then, and he'd answered honestly since that time, hoping to at least protect Bella from Demetri's guesswork or his own callous ideas of what he thought might sway a human to be his mate.

Even so, Edward hated himself for doing it, and he hated more watching what he gave Demetri be applied with twisted derivations of emotionless logic. While it was obvious to Edward that Bella didn't just dislike Demetri's company but that she found him repulsive in several regards, Demetri was blind—willfully or otherwise—to her true feelings.

As a memory surfaced, Edward allowed himself to pause and smile at his piano. Demetri had asked what Bella appreciated in the way of gifts. He didn't believe Edward when he'd told him the truth. Of course, Aro would hear of Edward's levity at Demetri's expense, but he would also see that Edward had told the truth. He could not be held accountable for Demetri's stupidity. Aro had too much sense for that.

Demetri was a self-centred prick, if Edward was being blunt.

He wished with his most fervent desire that Demetri failed in all aspects of his experiment. Knowing as he did of Aro's intention to turn Bella before the summer was out, Edward hoped Bella dismantled Demetri with her newborn strength.

He also wished that he could run away with her and hide her so he could spare her this ultimate death. For that was what his kind were, the walking dead, sucking life from others.

But he couldn't. Demetri would find him, and by extension, Bella. He was almost certain that Demetri couldn't track her, but it was too risky to run, and he wouldn't endanger her life.

He sighed, mashing his fingers into the piano's keys. The several hammers made dull and almost soundless notes on the strings. _There but not,_ he thought, _like me. Here but not._

He was merely a weight holding another in balance. As long as he behaved and didn't interfere with Demetri's experiment, Bella was safe.

And Bella. He closed his eyes. She did not thrive nor was she happy, but she was alive. She weighed marginally more than when she'd arrived. He supposed that was something. She learned Italian and continued her other studies. He'd made sure the laptop would work well. It didn't matter who took credit for it.

"Who are you fooling!" He growled at himself.

It mattered.

He'd been a fool to leave her and even more of a fool to come here when he thought she was dead.

_Idiot!_

And when Alice had thought frantically at him that day in the throne room, _I'll offer myself in both your places!_ Edward had refused, his frantic headshake negating the offer. He knew Alice would see that he'd refuse to leave. Aro suspected that Bella's gift would be powerful, and he hadn't been willing to give up her potential for a known quantity. Alice's sacrifice would have been pointless. Aro would have found a way to twist any offer into keeping all of them. There had been no point. There was no point.

He thought of Alice's other offer at which he'd also shaken his head. If he'd so thoroughly managed to convince Bella that he didn't love her all those months ago, Alice's claiming otherwise would be incredible to Bella, damaging her relationship with Alice and potentially tormenting Bella more than she already was. With his gift, he'd already heard Demetri's plan and seen Aro's intent. .

Things had changed in the intervening weeks, at least as far as the Volturi's plans were concerned. Aro coveted Alice. Already he had seen that Edward's ability gave him only the most marginal advantage over his own. It was nothing compared to what Alice might offer. But Aro would be reluctant to give up Bella if there was a chance she would be gifted. That, and releasing Bella, would erode Aro's control of Demetri. The man was not the oldest of the guard, but he was the one who most furiously coveted a mate. And now that he had set his sights on Bella . . . well, he was a tracker. It made sense that he was tenacious with his goals.

It made Edward want to hiss and spit and rip the man's head off.

Instead, Edward forced himself to breathe as he had once instructed Bella to: slowly, carefully, and deeply. Even in the murk of the castle, he could catch tastes of her scent. It was almost as good as seeing her.

 _I love you,_ he thought to her. _I wish you could hear me, and I wish I could tell you how much I've lied. I love you._

He repeated these words and regrets and love over and over and over in his mind, soon adding to the litany of notes that formed her lullaby, sending the creation out into the air and hoping it somehow found its way to her.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	14. Justice

Posted 2020-07-27

* * *

After the initial and surprising summons to the throne room, Bella had learned to approach the castle cautiously when she returned from her daily excursions. Today was no exception, and just as she’d passed through the reception area, thinking the path to her room was clear, Jane appeared in front of her. She looked darkly amused.

“You’re wanted in the throne room,” Jane said. She pointed the way, smiling her dark smile.

Purse slung over her arm, Bella looked towards it, panicked and looking for delay or escape. “Okay, I’ll just put this—”

“Now,” Jane said. She stepped closer, her tiny body in no way ambiguous in the mortal threat she posed to Bella.

When she tugged the purse up higher on her arm, Jane snatched at it, the strap snapping and Bella’s things spilling onto the floor. “Move!” Jane snarled.

Bella stumbled forward, moving in the direction Jane had pointed. When she tripped after a few more steps, Jane made an exasperated sound. Bella’s heart raced with fear.

The way to the audience chamber was easy to find, the hallway as wide as the double-doors that marked the place where Bella imagined Aro lived. It was an abrupt thought in the midst or her distress, wondering if Aro or the others ever left. Did they have other pursuits they followed? 

“Wait here,” Jane said. She seemed to glide past Bella and through the crack in the door, leaving Bella standing in the cold, empty hallway, her thundering heart sounding as loud to her as it must be to the vampires waiting inside.

It was another, unfamiliar guard member who opened the door and stared at her. Bella didn’t dare break eye contact, staring right back. The vampire jerked his head to the side in summons. 

Still not breaking where they were joined by a gaze, Bella stepped nervously past him into the room, her focal point dragged off course by the words that greeted her.

“I see we are all now assembled,” Aro said. 

He sat in his habitual seat, Edward beside him. 

Both looked bored.

Bella didn’t move from her spot by the door. Being as still as possible in a room of vampires was always a good idea, she’d learned.

“Come,” Aro said, looking towards the group of vampires in the centre of the room. Here Bella saw Demetri and others of the guard, their hands clamped firmly over the arms of a female vampire. She looked terrified.

Bella empathized and then felt a stab of cowardly relief that it wasn’t her being handled so.

Aro took the woman’s hand, shaking his head simultaneously. “Jasmina, really? Fuelling myths in the subcontinent.” He tsked. “We may be deific, but it is best if our deity is left unregarded by human eyes.” Here he levelled his gaze at Bella and then Edward, taking the latter’s hand in his. “Edward, you may dispense justice.” He released the woman’s hand. “Alec, if you will.” He waved his hand towards the now screaming woman, still held by Demetri and Felix.

Bella felt as if she’d stopped breathing, realizing she actually had. She pulled in a tenuous breath.

But Edward did not move, his gaze lowered, some emotion that Bella could not fathom traversing his face.

The woman, who had begun screaming at Aro’s pronouncement, had become abruptly silent.

“I see,” Aro said. “Alec, take Demetri’s place. Demetri, if you please.”

Like a record brought to a needle, the screaming began again.

And even though Bella had known what the outcome would be the minute she’d seen the woman, she still flinched and turned away when Demetri’s hands cradled the woman’s head. 

Bella knew exactly what those hands felt like, and now she would know with her mind’s eye what those hands had done the next time they touched her.

The sound was unrelenting, a shrieking squeal of metal repeated several times. But there was no rush of air or flames, and she made the mistake of glancing towards the door as several guard members carried the articulated remains outside.

“Oh God,” she muttered.

“Ah, our young Bella, no, she was not,” Aro said from his chair. His voice drew her gaze. “But she was foolish enough to let humans believe so. Learn from her errors. Now, to our next business.”

_ There was more? _ Bella swallowed. She looked around the room. No likely culprit appeared, but then a flicker of movement from the shadows caught her eye. In the dimness behind the thrones was a line of vampires—those of the lower order. One of the anonymously clad figures approached the space in front of Aro’s throne. 

“Jane.” Aro sighed. “What is his crime this time?”

“Insufficient completion of duties,” she answered, voice sweet. Then she looked at Bella, smirking.

“And how many times have you punished him for this?” Aro asked.

“Many,” she chirped.

“If he displeases you so, perhaps a more permanent solution and a replacement would be preferred?” 

The creature in question stood stock still as his very existence was debated.

Bella watched with dread.

“Very well,” Aro said. His gaze slid towards Edward, who let go of his hand.

Approaching the brown-robed man quickly, Edward grasped the man’s arm, and before Bella could even fully register the movement, detached his hand. He licked the base of the appendage and then reattached it.

The vampire didn’t even flinch. He bowed to Aro silently and then returned to his place behind the throne.

To the general room, Aro said, “Thank you for your witness. You are dismissed.”

The vampires in the room left at a visible pace, and Bella waited for them to go, trying not to startle when a cold hand made a loop of her arm.

“Come,” Demetri said.

As they walked from the room, it was only then that Bella realized Gianna had also been with them. She too had acquired a vampire escort, a man whose arm snaked around her waist and rested on her backside. He was half bent over her, cooing things so sweetly that they needed no translation for Bella.

“You have seen our justice performed now,” Demetri commented.

_ Brutality, more like _ , Bella thought, wondering if Demetri expected a reply. 

“It is a harsh justice, but we are not without mercy. We kill quickly, usually with Alec’s gifts, unlike today.” He frowned.

“What are . . . Alec’s gifts?” Bella asked, not sure she really should.

Demetri’s pace was slow, matching her own. Bella’s pace was set by her desire not to get too close to Gianna and the vampire in front of her. He was massaging her ass, and Bella looked down at the floor in front of her.

“He can suspend people’s senses. They feel nothing. The void of sensation is quite . . . unpleasant in and of itself, but it does have the virtue of preventing one from feeling pain.” He shrugged. “Aro is not unmerciful in his executions.”

“But today . . .”

Demetri frowned deeply. “It is an honour to be offered the right to effectuate justice. There will be consequences for the refusal.”

Bella tried not to think about what those consequences would be or who would administer them. She remembered Jane and her pleasure in torturing Edward the day they arrived.

“Oh,” Bella said.

Ahead of them, Gianna and her very handsy vampire slipped through one of the doors that dotted the long hallway. Even several steps past, Bella caught Gianna’s giggle and then several muffled and pleasured grunts. Her cheeks flamed with warmth, understanding what she was hearing.

“You are so innocent.” Demetri chuckled beside her.

Her cheeks went from warm to hot. 

“I do not mean to mock you, my Bella,” Demetri said, stopping them, tilting her chin up to look at him. “I find your innocence endearing.” He bent down and whispered in her ear, “And I look forward to making you less so.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, finishing it with a swipe of his tongue. “But only when you are ready for such an education.” 

She was sure her face was purple from the heat wafting off of it but said nothing in response, only turning and walking beside Demetri as they continued their walk back to her room.

At the entrance to her room, he brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I will see you for dinner.”

She nodded, still trying to master the feelings that were trying to play out over her face. 

“But before I go . . .” He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

Bella’s eyes widened.  _ Surely, no, he wouldn’t—? _

Without ceremony, Demetri snapped it open. The crack of the hinge made her think of a body, breaking. She shivered.

“I thought of you when I saw this.” He pulled a small gold ring from the little satin pillow. Its bright red jewel was even more violent than that of his own eyes. “Your eyes will be much the same colour.” He chuckled, like this was a joke. Her stomach churned, given what she’d just seen. “It will serve to remind you of your life yet to come.” His frigid hand gripped her clammy one. “As well as the bond we share.” He slid the ring on her left ring finger. “Perfect.” He held her hand, eyeing the ring, smiling and obviously pleased with himself. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, his tongue bathing the skin there. When he let go, her hand dropped like a weight. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Until later, my Bella.”

Then he was gone. She leaned against the heavy door after he left, eyes closed, struggling to summon images that were strong enough to banish what she’d experienced in the last hour, but all she could find was Edward’s face and what she now understood was the expression that represented the torture she’d damned him to.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	15. Miss Me

Posted 2020-07-29

* * *

"Good morning, my Bella," Demetri whispered.

Blinking open her eyes, Bella sat up cautiously. Demetri was sitting on the end of her bed, dressed in sombre grey, the drab guard's cloak perched on his shoulders.

"I must leave on business, but I shall return as soon as I can. I expect by late tomorrow evening or the day following."

Bella gave silent thanks to whatever gods there were for the gift of his absence.

He stood, walking towards the head of the bed. As Demetri reached for one of her arms, she tensed, not sure what physical gesture he would use. However, he surprised her by only squeezing her hand as he ran his nose over her skin, raising gooseflesh. His fingers seemed to linger over the ring he'd given her, glancing from it to her face.

"I think you will miss me." There was a seriousness to his tone and some other emotion she could not name.

Both the uncertainty around the feeling and the way he spoke made Bella very nervous.

"You will be safe here," he added, and then vanished.

But unlike the times before, his disappearance was marked by a very distinct sound, one of the door locking.

Eyes widening, she threw back the covers and ran to the door. Pulling on the handle, Bella could not open it, not even to make it rattle.

He had locked her in her room. He had _never_ locked her in her room.

 _With food,_ she reminded herself. _And water and books and a computer. You'll be fine. Don't panic._

 _Don't panic,_ she added again for good measure.

And after very much letting herself panic for the length of a minute, she forced herself to take several deep breaths. Somewhat calmer, she resolved instead to look at the time alone as an opportunity to get ahead with her schooling. And so, left to her own devices, she nervously started the fire, making herself a cup of hot water, sipping at it slowly as she read through her study material.

The day passed, and she eventually found peace and satisfaction with the progress she made with her learning, two units completed by the evening.

As the light faded, she paced in the room, trying to stretch her legs and shake off the restlessness in her limbs. The effect was less than satisfactory, and she began to more vigorously shake each of her legs one at a time. She continued her awkward dance until she heard a knock at the door.

Then it opened, and Bella made herself be very, very still. If Demetri wasn't here, then who was? And more importantly, what did they want with her?

There was no answer, though, only the soft click of the lock again, but at the door was a tray of—thank God!—hot food.

She picked up the tray, mouth watering. There was a bowl of fragrant soup—tomatoes and beans and sage—and a small loaf of steaming bread, a tiny crock of butter beside it. There was also a small wine glass full of a ruby liquid. She ate and drank all of it with relish.

But the wine, which she normally only sipped, didn't have its normal effect. Her legs still ached, the feeling seeming to spread to her back now too.

Crap, was she getting sick?

Of all the times, she thought, a small worry bubbling in her stomach, but she chastised herself. _Don't be stupid. You're just antsy because you haven't been outside today . . . and because you've been locked in a room._

The feeling didn't abate as the night wore on. Her regular books wouldn't hold her attention, and when she tried, she couldn't fall asleep.

When the pre-dawn light began to spread across the waning night sky, she had been sweating for the better part of an hour. Her eyes watered incessantly, and her arms ached. She'd had her share of illnesses before but never anything like this. Her mind couldn't settle in general, and without outside stimulus, it had no shortage of dire theories about what was wrong with her.

When she got up again to go to the bathroom, a wave of lightheadedness dropped her to the floor. She could barely figure out which way was up and which was forward, so she stayed there shivering for several minutes. Drawn by need, she crawled to the bathroom, righting herself briefly to use the toilet and the sink.

She made a slow crawl back to the bed, not bothering to get up again to eat or drink. Everything ached too much. Time passed, the light moving through the room. Still, sleep would not come, and by the time evening arrived, her heartbeat an erratic tattoo. The quiet knock came again, food left at the door, but she didn't get up for it. Her stomach roiled, promising revolt if she tried to put anything into it.

It wasn't so much sleep that she finally succumbed to but brief bouts of exhaustion that made her lose consciousness. She'd bolt awake, heart pounding that something bad was going to happen only to take in a room that seemed darker and darker with the night's progression.

When she woke to the morning's bright sunlight, it was with a sense of déjà vu because Demetri was again sitting at the foot of the bed.

"You have been ill," he said.

"Yes," she croaked.

He nodded towards a cup of water beside the bed.

She picked it up, drinking hastily, choking and spluttering. Demetri pulled her into his lap, his hand at her back, his concerned face in front of her.

"I'm fine," she managed. She'd just been so thirsty. What had she been sick with?

"I think my absence does not suit you well," Demetri murmured. He planted one of his strange kisses on her forehead, and while she wanted to shrink from the contact, she noticed that the usual dizziness did not accompany his touch.

 _I really have been sick_ , she thought, _if this isn't bothering me._

"You should eat," Demetri said, stroking her cheek.

She shuddered and her stomach lurched. "I don't think I can."

"You must," Demetri insisted. He put her down on the bed, flipping the covers back on top of her.

Bella groaned as he brought the tray of food closer.

"I'll be sick if I do."

"Then you'll be sick, but you must eat." He held a spoonful of some sort of food in front of her.

With both reluctance and resentment, Bella took the spoon, forcing it into her mouth. To her great surprise, it tasted good, and she wanted more. Her stomach grumbled appreciatively, and she continued eating, hoping she didn't regret this later on. She was so preoccupied that she barely paid mind to Demetri, who had taken her other wrist and had placed one of his strange kisses on it.

Her motions became slower and slower as she ate, eyes blinking heavily, limbs weighing more and more. At some point, she blinked her eyes open and found herself still in bed, completely fuzzy about how she'd gotten there. Her sleep was nearly dreamless, filled with unpleasant flickers of Demetri's face, the features carved into a self-satisfied smirk that seemed pointed wholly at her.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	16. Break Room

2020-07-30: As always, I'm most grateful for chayasara over on fanfiction.net for beta-ing this story. Please note, I added a few words here and there after she was done, so all errors are my own.

Erin

* * *

The illness that had taken her by surprise had been quick to come and quick to go but had left her with residual muscle aches and an intermittent headache that even after two days of extended rest she couldn’t seem to shake. Even so, she refused to let her physical discomfort keep her from the warming spring air and sunshine.

She sat at a small café table, enjoying the disappearing rays of a reluctant May sun. Ominous clouds were sweeping in from the west, and she knew she’d need to leave soon for the castle or risk being drenched on the way. 

Silvio swept by her, pulling down umbrellas, tying them to their stands. Bella sighed. Yes, it would rain soon, but it was warm outside. She sipped at her coffee, now down to its last tepid dregs. 

“That’s bad weather on the way, Bella,” Silvio said.

“It is,” she agreed, standing. It wouldn’t be kind to linger and make him clean up in the rain. As always, she picked up her cup and plate, but Silvio reached for them.

“No, no. Truly, you must go. These spring storms are something best witnessed from inside. They are shoe-ruiners, these.” He smiled his flirting smile, then looked up at the sky.

Taking him at his word, Bella waved in farewell and began her brisk walk back to the castle. As Silvio had promised, the sky darkened quickly, and by the time she reached the main entrance, her shoulders were wet with a few fat drops. Inside, she turned and paused to watch as the rain began to fall in heavy splatters and then sheets, a veritable river coursing down the street towards the direction she’d come from. She peered out at the flow of water, thinking of the tunnels through which she had first entered the castle. They would be part of the city’s large drainage system, and she understood now why it required such an extensive one. There’d be flooding otherwise.

Not knowing how long it would take for the squall to pass and not ready to head back to her room to study, Bella walked slowly down to the library. The halls were empty. But the halls were almost always empty, filled only with a distant and likely imagined vampire’s shadow. This suited her fine. She let her thoughts flitter through her latest correspondence with her mother, the terse words she’d received from her father the month before, her more pressing study material, her latest novel, and then to whatever new discoveries she might find in the library.

The main room was empty.  _ Like the halls _ , she thought. She’d never found another of the guard here. Yet, the reading room was spotless, its desks shiny with centuries of polishing. Its underuse always made her sad. While she appreciated having the space to herself, she wished it could benefit others.

The members of the Lower Order hadn’t exactly become friendly with Bella, but they’d become less . . . shy, she supposed. It was Marcus who had first bravely begun dusting books in her presence. After this pattern repeated itself, a few other members had joined him in becoming visible when working. She didn’t interact with them unless she needed help in finding a book. She took it as a sign of habituation that a few occasionally dared to meet her direct gaze.

“Positively social,” she muttered to herself as she descended the wide stone stairs to the second level. Out of habit, she made for the third lower level of the library. It was the first of several levels from which she now knew sound would not travel to other parts of the castle. She gave herself permission there to mumble aloud when reading or to simply voice her thoughts without the tense self-censorship under which she existed everywhere else.

“Hi, Marcus. Hi, Erastus,” she called as she walked. She’d never tried calling their names before. She wondered what would happen.

Their appearance was almost instant, but it was gentle. They walked from the shadows rather than startling her with their abrupt presence. So unlike Demetri.

“Yes, my lady?” Marcus asked. He and Erastus stood with their hands folded in front of them. Like monks.

“I was just saying hello,” Bella said. She felt badly now. She’d very likely pulled them away from their work. Her stomach lurched, remembering what had happened to them when they didn’t accomplish their assigned tasks. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

“It is not careless that you greet us,” Marcus said. Some aspect of his posture shifted. She couldn’t say what, but it . . . softened somehow.

“Are you looking for something new to read?” As always, that nervous edge to Erastus’s voice persisted, like he feared her.

Bella was about to say no but then changed her mind. They seemed to be happy when she asked for a book.

“Uh, yeah.” She fished in her bag, pulling out her laptop. “Let me look it up.” Setting the small machine down on one of the tables, she plugged in the tiny modem, hoping she’d get a signal.  _ Bingo! _ she thought as the lines lit up. Somehow, there was wifi. Tapping the title into the search engine, she brought up the website she wanted.

“This one,” she said, tapping the screen. The book was a brand new release. If she really wanted to, she could have found a way to order it online, but she was curious to see what Marcus and Erastus did when presented with such a task. She wasn’t sure how much they knew of the outside world or if they really interacted with it at all.

Both men stepped a bit closer though they were still some ten feet away.

“Um, you can come and use the computer if you want.”

They approached and Bella moved away. Both of them peered at the machine, not touching it.

“You just need to use the trackpad,” she said.  _ Perhaps they’d only used desktops? _

They stared at her, incomprehension spreading out over their features.

“Here,” she said, gesturing towards the trackpad but not moving any closer. She’d noticed how they always stayed an arm’s length away. She didn’t want to unnerve the pair. 

Still, they didn’t do anything. “Have you used a computer before?”

Both shook their heads.

“How do you get new books, then?”

“The guards bring them. We register and enter them. On occasion, they give us a catalogue from which to order an appropriate selection.” Erastus sounded excited by the idea of a catalogue.

“Like, a paper catalogue?” Bella asked.  _ Were those even a thing any more? _

“It has been some time since we have been given one,” Marcus admitted. “We do  _ know _ of computers.” He seemed eager to prove he was not ignorant.

“Of course,” Bella said, guiltily realizing she must be embarrassing them.

Erastus eyed his companion warily. “Would you like some hot water?” he blurted out to Bella.

Marcus, meanwhile, had touched his fingertip to the trackpad. The mouse moved and he drew in a sharp breath. “Wondrous.”

“My lady?” Erastus prompted. 

They were like children, Bella thought, so delighted by offering her a drink, by seeing a computer.

“That would be lovely,” she said, wondering from where hot water was going to appear.

“Then come this way,” Erastus said. He gestured towards the stairs that led further downwards in the library.

Marcus had already picked up her laptop for her, his hand mirroring Erastus’s in its directionality.

Bella followed them, suddenly nervous about this unknown destination. She thought of the rain outside and the city sewers and how they were walking farther and farther away from light and air and the pretense of freedom she enjoyed. 

When they approached the humble, wooden side door three more levels down, Bella’s hands felt sweaty. She expected a dungeon. She expected to have made a poor choice.

She did not expect to find a room full of upholstered chairs, these flanked by racks of colourful clothes, stacks of cardboard boxes, a cheery fire in a fireplace, or an ancient copper pot hanging from it. There were clean but chipped mugs and cups of various shapes sitting on a table, and there was a vampire sitting in one of the recliners, the skirt of his robe bunched up over a pair of knobbly knees, his feet soaking in a steaming tub of water.

It was a fricking break room.

She was so relieved that she burst into a fit of giggles.

The seated vampire stood, stepping out of the tub, his face taut with some strong emotion.

“Pardon me, sorry, I—” Bella waved her hand in front of her face. “I just wasn’t expecting . . . this.”

Then she saw the television in the corner. It was older than she was, its rabbit ears augmented with wires that ran up and through a conduit in the ceiling that held other, sturdier pieces of pipe.

“Dominic, all is well,” Marcus said. He had, Bella realized, something of an air of leadership about him. The others of his order deferred to his words, and Dominic did now, too, sitting again slowly, tenuously putting his feet back in the bucket.

Erastus ladled hot water from the kettle into a cup.

“We retrieve this water from our aquifer below the castle. It is clean and safe for you to drink, as it has not traversed our pipes.”

“Thank you,” Bella said, picking up the cup he put on the table. The mug appeared to be handmade, its glaze sturdy and rough. Her thumb brushed over the generous texture. The water was very hot, and she blew on it.

Her audience stared. She felt like an animal on display at the zoo.

“This is very . . . cozy,” she said, eyeing the chairs and the television. “Um, what do you like to watch?”

“ _ The Bold and the Beautiful _ ,” Erastus said without hesitation.

They appeared distressed when she coughed and spluttered out her water. “I’m fine,” she managed. “Sorry, just . . . I didn’t expect that either.”

“Perhaps you would care to sit?” Marcus asked. He waved towards one of the chairs near the fire.

“Thank you,” Bella said, sitting down and putting her water on the table. She thought for a moment about the room and what it represented. Everything in it was old. She suspected the things in it were all discards from the guard. And yet, this was their own space.

“What are the clothes for?” she asked.

Here the men smiled shyly, Marcus saying, “Purely for vanity. We like to watch television, and as we are able, we find clothing to suit us, like the people we see. Each of us has an outfit that fits.”

Peering more closely at the racks behind her, Bella saw that the clothing was from a range of periods, some recent and some far, far older. If she had to guess, some were almost a hundred years old. One of the men’s windbreaker jackets nearest her was a vibrant red, and it jogged a memory somewhere in her head. She’d seen a jacket just like that, somewhere. She just couldn’t place it.

Marcus and Erastus were curious as was their companion. That much was more than apparent in their body language alone. And though they were confined to the castle and their limited role within it as keepers of the library, they knew a great deal and longed to know more. The clothes, the television, the cups—these all suggested a desire to be part of something greater. 

Something  _ human _ .

“What do you use the cups for?”

“We enjoy the warmth in our hands,” Dominic answered shyly, “and the warmth on our feet. It is pleasant. We see that humans do, too.”

She was right. “Being warm does feel good,” Bella said, “very much.”

There was a glimmer in the pink eyes around her, something of a connection between them. It made Bella think of other connections she might make.

“May I show you how to use my computer?” Bella asked Marcus.

He blinked and then nodded, not moving any closer. And so, for the next part of an hour, she showed him how to use the computer, nudging it over his way, watching him master everything she taught him and then some. 

When she explained the concept and practise around a computerized database, Marcus and Erastus stared at her and then at each other.

“Here, I’ll show you,” she said, bringing up the Port Angeles library catalogue. Her audience was entranced. They asked questions, some of which she had answers to and some of which she had none.

She would have stayed to answer them all, or as many as she could, but her bladder was making her need to leave clear. 

“I should go,” she finally announced to disappointed faces. As she packed up her laptop, though, she felt like a child hoarding a toy. “But perhaps you’d like to use it for a bit? I don’t need it today.”

They shook their heads. “It might be missed.”

“Would you like to have a computer here in the library?” she asked. She thought of all the money from Volturi funds that sat in her account.

“We would have no need of one,” Marcus said sadly. His tone spoke of his longing for one.

“But you could make a catalogue of the books and use it for research and finding new books,” Bella said. “All modern libraries have one.” She thought further along this line. “Surely the Volturi would not want their library to be less organized or functional than a human one”—not that the Lower Order would ever feel comfortable saying anything to the guard about this. “Never mind. I’ll buy some computers for the library and explain to the powers that be that the library needs to be updated.”

The librarians looked nervously excited at this prospect, nodding, hands twisting together.

As she walked from the library, emerging into the muted light of a still-rainy day, she pushed through the heavy door into the hallway and suddenly remembered where she’d seen the red jacket before. It had been on a tall man who’d made his final walk into the Volturi audience chamber her first day there.

She paused, letting that information swim around in her head, finding a place to land.  _ People died here _ , she reminded herself. People  _ will _ die here, and while she might come and go from this place seemingly as she pleased, the invisible leash that kept her tethered to the space felt more and more like the noose that it was.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	17. Chocolate

A/N for 2020-07-31: I did not know this prior to writing this story, but apparently _The Bold and The Beautiful_ is a really big deal in Italy, as well as with some of you all, too. Cool. I'm not a soap gal, barring a brief stint with _Days of our Lives_ back in the 90's, but I get the appeal, as do the fine vamps of the Lower Order.

As always, many thanks to chayasara for her thoughtful editing and the incredibly kind way she explains matters grammatical and editorial.

Now, back to the angst!

~ Erin

* * *

While Bella had initially determined that it would be simpler to buy computers for the library herself, she knew this could create problems for the librarians if she did so without permission. To that end, she was very careful in how she asked Demetri for help in getting said items for the library.

"It's tedious to look through a card catalogue system," she pointed out, "and I can't imagine that the system gets more efficient with age or scope or size. An automated system would be labour-intensive to create, but you do have the labour available, and it would be simple, given the right equipment to index the present titles . It should be internally networked, but they'd need an internet connection to create standardized indexes—"

Demetri waved his hand away at the details, reaching for her hand. "It pleases me to please you with this. It will be done."

And just like that, with a literal wave of his hand, the process of automating the library began. When she visited the library a few days later, she found what seemed like the full complement of the Lower Order clutching laptops as they moved through the aisles, cataloguing each entry. They weren't smiling as they worked, but there was an animation in their movements that spoke of silent satisfaction. Adjacent to the card catalogue was an old desk upon which sat a laptop. This connected to a network cable that snaked promisingly upwards and then along the ceiling.

She made sure she stayed where she could see the vampires working, their inhuman speediness providing a kind of . . . company. It was less lonely with them around, and she enjoyed studying in the library with their visible presence.

Marcus surprised her one of these workday afternoons by quietly speaking her name and then asking, "Might I show you something?"

"Sure." Bella went to close her laptop.

"Ah, you'll need that," Marcus said, smiling. He gestured to her computer.

"Of course." Her curiosity was piqued.

"May I?" His fingertip touched the top of the screen.

Bella pushed the laptop towards him and watched as he typed rapidly. Then he turned it back to her. "That's your username. You just need to enter your password."

"My username for . . . ?"

"Our library system." He positively beamed, or rather, gave the tiniest suggestion of a smile, which was staggering for Marcus. "It will allow you to add to the collection, search for or request items, leave us messages, and renew the books you've checked out."

She was stunned to be included. "Thank you," she breathed.

It was hard not to spend more time in the library after her inclusion in its work had been made so specifically. Even so, she still needed to stretch her legs and see the sun, which was not a frequent visitor in this Tuscan spring. She'd arrived during what the locals said was an unseasonably wet year, and while there were fewer flood like rain spells and more frequent, kinder sprinkles through which she could walk, even Bella-of-the-rain-soaked-West-Coast could not manage slippery cobblestones that well. Forced home earlier than planned by such temperamental weather, Bella paused to pluck the letter that Gianna's impatient fingers waved at her from the reception desk.

"Grazi." Bella smiled politely at Gianna.

"You're welcome." Gianna replied in a fake American twang, her mocking tone invalidating the words as effectively as if she'd hissed at Bella.

Bella was fairly certain that Gianna's resentment had little to do with what had transpired weeks earlier in the throne room and more to do with the fact that Bella's transformation into a vampire was almost guaranteed. Though she did not trust the woman and found her antagonistic behaviour depressing, she could not bring herself to be rude or unkind. Gianna was a human who chose to live amongst human-drinking vampires. There was something pitiable in that.

Her gaze slipped to the letter between her fingers, and Bella breathed out an excited, "Dad!" There was no mistaking his handwriting on the red and blue striped envelope. Carefully, she eased it open, teeth worrying her lower lip. Paper cuts were their own peril in a castle full of vampires.

She was so focused that she wasn't really listening to the sounds around her. When the distant hum of voices grew louder, and she realized what they meant, she knew she'd be too late to avoid being a witness to the arrival and—at least audibly—the departure of the Volturi's next meal.

Trying to dash from the foyer, she tripped, stumbling and dropping her purse, its contents spilling out in front of her. She scrambled to gather everything up and then get away as fast as she could.

"Want to join them?" Jane's voice called, far away and then not so far away. She blocked the nearest exit. "Don't you want to see?" Her mouth twisted into a devilish grin.

Unique voices were rising from the group Bella knew was now only a few steps away. The low boom of men talking, then the moderate sopranos of middle-aged women, and finally—oh God, no—the clear songs of children's questions and requests.

"I'll let you go once you take a look," Jane taunted. "Just a glance, Bella. I want you to see your future . . . as a meal." Then she laughed and danced away towards the human throng. "This way!" she sang towards the crowd, who followed.

With the sight of them now unavoidable, Bella didn't just glance. She stared without wanting to, her mind memorizing faces and clothes, morbidly wondering what items would survive to live on in the Lower Order's macabre collection, for surely none of the current wearers would need them again.

Several in the crowd carried backpacks or purses, some cameras but none, phones. Many held chocolate bars, most of these already partially consumed.

Then Heidi pranced by, her lime-green ensemble visually jarring against the bright red wrappers, making it look like some sort of sick Christmas in late May.

The smell of chocolate met her, and Bella wanted to vomit, knowing to what end these people were headed. Finally torn from her momentary and gruesome trance, Bella turned and stumbled away, but not in time to avoid hearing the first, telling screams that travelled so easily out of the throne room—unlike its guests.

She fumbled with the nearest doors, searching for one that would open and offer her some reprieve from the nightmarish sounds. The rooms closest to the reception area were the old work spaces, now largely left unused, and she hoped, unlocked. When one opened, she almost fell inside, her gaze sweeping the room to make sure it was truly empty of anything living or undead. Assured that she was indeed alone, she sank back against the door, closing her eyes and covering her ears with her hands.

It was not long before she released her head from her silencing vice, the castle's usual soundlessness having re-emerged. "Don't think about it," she told herself. "There's nothing you can do."

There really wasn't, and it helped to say this to herself several times.

Still, she didn't move, her backside and back growing numb. Though she had her suspicions as to how the throne room was cleaned, she didn't want them confirmed. Staying put, she let her eyes wander the room. It was generously lit by a large courtyard window, and she frowned, considering just how many courtyards the castle must feature. Resolving to find a map of the place at the earliest possibility, she simultaneously berated herself for not having done so earlier.

The room also housed a strange confluence of the old and new. Centred towards the back, clearly taking advantage of the room's best light, was an ancient wooden loom, pristine and dustless for its obvious disuse. Tall shelves crowded its action space, but there was no wool or other fibre in sight. The loom's solid weft dangled, perfectly still, a piece of history caught in time. In front of it sat a much more modern sewing machine, its vintage closer in age to something her grandmother might have used.

Would the Volturi have woven their own fabric at one time? Yes, it was likely they had in order to avoid imperfections visible to their eyes, she determined. She thought of the Lower Order and their work and how reduced it must now be if they had once been the weavers here. Or, she mused, perhaps that work was given to other vampires of higher stature?

It was the very modern cardboard boxes stacked beside the loom that drew her attention, a stray ray of sunlight glinting off a shiny red wrapper—a chocolate bar wrapper.

Standing shakily, Bella hissed in a breath as her legs protested this change, the pins and needles painful in her feet. When her circulation had started again, she approached the boxes, trying to understand why the Volturi would keep so many boxes of chocolate bars.

 _Lures,_ she thought, briefly closing her eyes. But for all the horror of seeing the grisly parade of only what—an hour before?—she knew that she was becoming immune in some way to the knowledge of how they fed.

As she read the neatly typed labels on the open box, she understood the true purpose of these shiny sweets. The word 'Lorazepam' required no translation, its dosage high enough to muddle an adult's thinking.

Jane's comment to Gianna all those weeks ago made gruesome sense now, and a disgusted"Ugh" escaped her lips. Her stomach twisted in on itself again, absorbing this new layer of information about the Volturi in a compendium of things she didn't want to know.

 _And you'll be just like them soon enough_ , a voice whispered in her head.

"Not like that," she promised herself, backing away from the boxes and then walking from the room. Not if she could help it.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	18. Into The World

A/N for 2020-08-02: Thanks to chayasara over on fanfiction.net, for combing out the infestation of commas in my writing, catching all my typos and nudging my prose into making sense; as well, thanks to ladylibre and Marie S Cullen for pre-reading, and to brierlynn03 for keeping me going with writing sprints.

~ Erin

* * *

Though the mostly cool and wet weather persisted, spring came to Volterra in the form of brilliant flowers and trees, blossomy offerings both planted and cut proliferating in the small city's streets. Bella could not help but stop and smell them. On her habitual morning walk, she was caught up by the heady scent of a particularly fragrant bunch of white freesia, so much so that the store's grizzled proprietor snapped at her that they were for buying, not there to be mauled by her nose. Both a little embarrassed by being so chastised and slightly amused by the description, Bella plucked the bouquet from its stand. "Questo, per favore," she said, handing over the price in cash listed.

The man nodded, taking her money and then moving inside to wrap the flowers. When he returned with them, she noticed the addition of a spray of bobbly yellow blooms, blossoms she'd seen, but whose name she didn't know. "Cosa sono questi?"

While her Italian had developed quite nicely, it was not so good as to catch his entire reply. They were mimosa and had something to do with women. He smiled and nodded at her, as if he'd done something . . . right. She couldn't quite get the full meaning but thanked him and continued on her way to what was now her habitual café.

Silvio waved as she walked in, picking up and carrying an order to another table. "Il tuo ordine regolare?" he called.

"Si, grazie."

She laid her bouquet on the table, sitting down and eyeing the comfortable chairs by the fire. It was just cool enough this morning to be able to enjoy its warmth. She wondered how much longer they would keep it lit. Or if she would see it lit again after that.

She banished the morbid thought.

"And what lucky man is giving you flowers?" Silvio asked, bringing over a coffee and cornetti.

She chuckled. "Just me, buying them for myself."

"Ah," he said, brushing a finger over the mimosa blooms. "That makes more sense."

"Is there some significance to those? The man added them without my asking."

Silvio chuckled. "It's the flower used for Women's Day. They normally don't bloom much past March, but it's been so wet and cool this year, they're very late." He touched one of the blossoms. "They were chosen as the flower for the day because they represent a woman's strength and her ability to thrive even in difficult circumstances."

"Interesting."

"He paid you a compliment with them. I'm not surprised." Then, as she had discovered he always did, he winked and went on his way to serve other customers.

She didn't feel so hardy or worthy of the compliment, but she liked the symbolism, and she was determined to try to live up to it.

On her way back to the Volturi complex, she took the long route that curled around to the less touristy parts of the city where the more utilitarian shops could be found, the secondhand bookstore amongst them. There were few English offerings, but there were some, and more importantly, there were new books in Italian. What she bought here, she then took down to the library.

The Lower Order, already hungry for books and knowledge, seemed even hungrier still, now that they could see how many more books were available.

Marcus, the most talkative librarian, had surprised her by asking for a book—the most timid request she'd ever heard. The choice of book, however, had made keeping a straight face nearly impossible for Bella. A glossy, full-colour hardback history of _The Bold and The Beautiful_ was on order at the bookstore, and she would deliver it to them when it arrived.

She could see them itching for other books as they worked on their collection. And their collection was impressive, but she knew they longed to improve it. Already, she had plans to deploy a second library-related appeal to Demetri over dinner tonight.

But now she allowed herself the happy delusions of books, losing herself in the crowded interior alleys made by overstuffed bookshelves, musty pages made kin to crisp ones by placement. How she could dream with a book, not just to fall into its prose, but to imagine herself there, some different life stretching before her, other than the one the Volturi expected. She could see herself being happy in a shop such as this, her life full of books, full of people who loved books, safe from broken hearts and the people who broke them.

She could read love stories again, now, for they were not her stories. They existed safely in the realm of fantasy. She pulled one such story from the shelf. The author's name was familiar, but the title was not though its proximity in Italian was close enough to assure her she would be able to grab the storyline and muddle through the prose. Her Italian was improving.

Arms heavy with flowers and books, she walked slowly back to the castle, sun and cloud warring for who would own the day.

She studied and read, and when she needed to turn on a lamp, sighed. Demetri would arrive soon, and her evening performance would begin.

She had tried to empathize with him. She really had. In theory, it was easy. He was very old and very lonely. In person, it was much harder. There was no spark between them, that was sure, but he was so blinded by his want he either did not notice or care.

Hands gripping the wardrobe doors, she pondered her choices. New items appeared regularly, older ones disappearing. She had not asked who bought them or who removed them from circulation. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the details of their origins or endings. They could be too much like the other beginnings and conclusions that happened in this place. She thought of the break room in the library basement and shuddered.

Most of her wardrobe was dark, conservative blues, greys, greens, and burgundies. The few patterned pieces were subtly done, and now as she shifted the clothes to better see them, she noted the deep blue dress and its fine lace covering that sported a muted pattern of—she peered at it—yes, mimosa flowers.

"Huh."

Pulling it from the rack, she eyed its general coverage. The back would leave her entirely exposed, the fabric cutting away at the shoulders and leaving a wide U down to her waist. It was designed as to be worn braless, but she could cover the back with a large scarf or duster.

"To women's independence," she muttered to herself and put the dress on.

Wanting to at least please Demetri's eyes, she took time to pin up her hair. He'd said that—and she shuddered, thinking about it—he liked to see her neck exposed. Maybe that would put him in a good enough mood to say yes to what she was proposing. Maybe.

She pulled long, golden, tear-drop earrings from the wardrobe door's rack. Their filigree work depicted the image of a caged bird.

_How ironic._

Wrapped in a blue and gold pashmina, she was ready for battle when Demetri arrived.

"My Bella," he purred, sliding an icy hand under her wrap, "You look stunning. I have been waiting for you to wear this dress." He planted an equally cold kiss on her cheek. His voice became a whisper. "I will be the envy of many a man tonight."

_Eew._

She smiled a polite smile, attempting to look demure and, at the same time, avoid his gaze.

Then she saw him lean forward and run his nose up her flowers, sitting in the vase she'd pulled from her room's mantle. "Who gave these to you?" he asked. His voice was carefully even but the jealousy so clear, she could practically smell it.

"I bought them for myself. The, um, shopkeeper seemed a bit peeved that I was smelling his flowers and not buying them." She shrugged. "I like having flowers."

Demetri's head turned slightly, a shrewd expression on his face. "I did not know this."

He said it in such a way that she wasn't sure she'd displeased him. "I hadn't thought to mention it."

His fingers took hold of her hand like a claw. She knew he didn't intend to hold her too hard, or so she hoped. "I wish to know what pleases you. Tell me if you wish for things. I will ensure you have them."

 _Like the freedom to go home and never come back?_ she thought wistfully.

Over dinner, Bella listened to him relay the latest business of the guard in very vague terms. She was grateful for his inability to share any significant details. It seemed that the guard's current business was theirs alone, Aro forbidding any discussion of their present workings beyond the tight circle of its members. When the food arrived, Demetri engaged in the pretense of eating while she picked at her own meal. He'd let her order for herself again, and while the food looked amazing, her stomach was twisted with anticipation.

"The library is really coming along very nicely," she commented, biting into her fish. It melted on her tongue, and she wondered if she could cook like this, given the right recipe—not that she would likely ever cook again. The thought was profoundly saddening.

"So you tell me," Demetri replied, eyeing her over his wine glass.

She looked back down at her plate. "It's a pity that the librarians don't have a way to really add to the collection."

"Oh?" He looked bored. She had to get to her point quickly.

"I wondered if I could show them where to buy books in the city or how to order them online."

"Are you not able to buy your own books?" Demetri asked.

"No, no, I can. I just—there are some gaps in the collection. It just seems a shame that the library of the most powerful creatures on earth doesn't have the same scope in material as . . . the local public library."

She wasn't sure if it was too much, but she knew better than to hold her breath awaiting his reply. Instead, she stuffed another forkful of food in her mouth, eyes on her plate.

Demetri had stopped pretending to eat. After two consecutive mouthfuls, Bella dared glance at him. His eyes moved over her like she was something to be appraised. Then he smirked. "You wish to take the Lower Order into the world." He chuckled. "You know what the penalty is if they touch a living human."

Stupidly, she had not incorporated this key piece of information into her plan. What if a human touched one of them? Still, she saw how they were so eager for the world. She'd make it their choice. But she wanted them to be able to have this tiny joy because she understood how profound it was in a life so caged by compulsion. Her hand went to her earring, fingering it.

"I do," she said. "And I can teach them. They could then . . . take on some of the more menial tasks, too. I'm sure the guard would appreciate that."

"Hmm," Demetri replied.

She knew the guard detested the paperwork and meetings they managed on the Volturi's behalf. Gianna handled much of the basic administrative tasks, but even so, being freed from what Demetri at least thought of as dull responsibilities . . .

"I will bring it to Aro." He smirked. "Such a reformer you are, Bella. It's been some time since a new member joined us. Your perspective is . . . so _fresh_."

His emphasis on the last words made her shiver slightly.

She shivered more as they walked back to the castle, his hand slipping under her shawl. Where another man might have gently rubbed her back, his fingers moved up and down her spine in lazy motions, then spread themselves over the small of her back. As they walked, his grip slipped ever so slightly lower so that his stony palm was beginning to cup her ass in the last blocks. She walked faster than usual, wanting to bring this bodily acquaintance to an end.

She was not so lucky. At her door, both his hands found bare flesh at her back and dragged her towards him, his hard lips pressed against her own. Then he released her, and she stumbled back slightly.

He licked his lips before speaking. "Until tomorrow, my Bella."

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	19. Mine

A/N for 2020-08-05: A few of people over on fanfiction.net have asked how long this story will be. I'm thinking around sixty chapters, approximately forty-six of which are already written. I'm hoping to have all the chapter drafts finished by the end of the summer.

On another topic: how are you all enjoying _Midnight Sun_? So far, I'm quite enamoured, but I'm only about 40% of the way through. Hopefully, the feeling lasts ;-)

Cheers,

Erin

* * *

Bella had just stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, when Demetri's voice greeted her.

"Very fetching," he said, chuckling.

Bella gripped the towel more securely, working up to a quiet, "Morning." She'd accepted that he liked startling her and tried not to react when he did.

He leaned against the wall by the door. "I would like to take you somewhere special today, and while you do look lovely in that, I think you'll want to wear something more suitable for walking in the woods."

The woods. Where every girl wanted to go with her creepy vampire. She looked at her desk, holding in her sigh. She was halfway through the last unit of math she needed to finish her GED, which was the second-to-last course she needed. If she busted her butt today, she'd be graduating on time, _if_ she passed the exam, that was. But not today, she told herself. Tomorrow.

"That sounds great," she made herself say. She could do math equations in her head while he talked. It would help to pass the time because being with Demetri for extended periods of time was an act of endurance.

"Good. Get dressed. I have left appropriate attire for you." He turned and left, the closing door a soft whoosh and click behind him.

Pulling open the wardrobe doors, Bella could hardly believe her eyes. A pair of jeans sat on a hanger. Tight dark jeans that looked like they belonged on a runway model and not her, but real, denim jeans. She put them on, throwing on the most casual shirt she could find. Eyeing her footwear, she selected the least heeled of the short boots, hoping they weren't going to be hiking. She had nothing that would do for that.

The car ride was much longer than any they'd taken before, and it was almost two hours before Demetri pulled over to the side of the road. A long path stretched upwards from the small gravel parking lot, and Bella felt a wave of dismay. They really were hiking.

But Demetri pulled a basket from the car, and then without comment or warning, picked her up in his other arm. She closed her eyes as quickly as she could but not before they were moving. She threw herself against his chest, straining against the forces that wanted to yank her body away from his.

His chuckle was low and brief. "I was warned that might be the reaction though I hear you are less of a fan of long walks in the woods."

Bella's stomach turned as it always did when Demetri revealed the things Edward had so obviously told him. She made her lips present a fake smile. If he understood its ingenuine nature, he did not reveal it in his own features.

"I thought you would enjoy a late breakfast here," Demetri said.

Having recovered enough to look around, Bella's mind was making unhappy connections. The glade was a small one, and like the meadow in Forks, was full of scattered wildflowers, some familiar, some not.

She was trying not to think of Edward and not succeeding. There were some very angry thoughts to be had.

"Come eat, my Bella," Demetri said. He snapped a blanket out over the ground.

Her appetite had scurried away into hiding on the way up the trail, and try as she might, she could not convince it to return. So she ate with determination rather than relish even though the food he'd brought was a collection of things she'd normally enjoy.

While he gave her space to eat, it was clear that the space was rapidly evaporating. He had inched himself closer, his fingers brushing over the sleeve of her shirt and then the thigh of her jeans.

"Wait, are those trillium?" Bella asked, standing quickly and moving off the blanket. She had no idea what the flowers were, but damned if she was going to sit still while Demetri tried to feel her up.

Demetri surprised her, laughing at her question. "Silene Vulgaris," he said. "Trilium are native to North America and Asia. You will, however," he said, pointing to the furthest corner of the glade, "find poppies. I seem to remember Carlisle was fond of gathering them." He shook his head. "God, the smell he made in the castle, bringing their sap inside to dry."

 _Of course Carlisle had_ , Bella thought. She wondered what human had benefited from his opium-producing efforts. She made a note to look in the library to see if she could find any information there.

She moved slowly towards the bright spot Demetri had indicated, not yet seeing what he'd pointed to. As she got closer, sure enough they were there: dark purple flowers that blended into the forest behind them. Their pale eyes seemed to blink against the dull light of the cloudy day, and she fingered the tender petals.

Demetri's hands cupped her hips, pulling her back against his body. She closed her eyes. She did not want to sully the image of the flower before her with his unwanted touch.

"Are there other flowers you know?" she asked.

"Just the one in front of me." One hand left her hip, brushing away the hair at her neck as he kissed her there.

She tried to step away, eyes searching for some other thing with which she could pretend interest, but his hands gripped and then turned her to face him.

"Is this a woman's way of telling me I have not brought you flowers?"

His insinuation offended her. "No," she said, shaking her head.

"Good. I do not like to think I have not pleased you." He didn't let go, keeping them pressed close together. "I do very much wish to pleasure you, my Bella."

Oh, she didn't like the way this was going at all.

"You do, when you listen to me and when you—"

His hands massaged her hips again, and she stopped talking. She dipped her head down, her foot angling back, but still he held on tight, his hand tipping her chin back up to face him. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers.

She didn't dare try to struggle. It had been months of avoiding his physical attentions, but something in the way he held her told it would be extraordinarily unwise to refuse him this small concession. She endured his kiss, but when his mouth moved to nudge her lips open, she twisted her face away.

He let her go, and she stumbled back a step while he remained utterly still, his gaze shrewd and displeased.

"You refuse me." He was angry.

_Shit._

"I'm not," she said. "It's . . ." she struggled for something plausible. Her heart seemed to thump higher up in her throat as she thought of what to say. "He said it was too dangerous—"

Demetri erased the distance between them, the abrupt proximity making her jump as he reached out to cup her face. "Foolishness on his part. I have had many lovers, my Bella. Several human. This will not harm you."

She wasn't sure if it was her nerves or the utter ridiculousness of what he'd said that made her laugh, but she laughed and it was very much the wrong thing to do.

She found herself facing skyward, Demetri caging her body with his own. Though his form only brushed over hers, the threat was clear. "Do my words amuse you, my Bella? Or do you disbelieve me?" His unblinking gaze was dark for its framing by the sky.

"No to both," she said.

Her answer obviously didn't please him, but he disappeared from over her, calling from the side. "We will leave."

As before, he didn't ask to carry her, but there was no smile on his face as he did or afterwards in the car. The car ride back felt far longer than the one that had brought them to their destination, unbroken with words as it was.

By the time they arrived at the castle, it was early afternoon. Bella's nerves were trilling with anxious energy, not helped by the rough grip Demetri used to march her back to her room.

He didn't stop moving once they got there either, parking her on the edge of her bed and then pacing the small distance between there and her door several times.

"Why will you not accept my affection?" he asked, finally stopping and turning. He was at an angle to the window, the muted light illuminating his scarlet eyes.

There was no truthful answer that would please him, and Bella couldn't find a lie that would either.

"Why?" he asked again, voice dangerously low.

His sudden appearance beside her made her gasp in fright. "Did he ever hurt you with his affection?" he asked, a cold finger brushing by her cheek.

"No," she breathed out.

"Then why do you refuse me?" he asked, fingers sliding into her hair, trapping her head between her hand and bun. He breathed out cold air onto her face, his forehead resting against hers.

His lips were cold against hers, and she shivered, not daring to try to move her head away.

He growled and then was gone, pacing again by the window. When her laptop exploded against the stone wall, she became a statue.

"You are mine," he growled, inches from her face. "You will know this one way or another, soon enough."

As always, his disappearance was sudden and unannounced. She counted to a hundred before letting herself sink to her knees, the adrenaline coursing through her, leaving her weak and jellied. She didn't know how much longer she could keep him at bay or when she could escape, but she needed to find a way, and soon.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	20. Monster

With most books, Bella flipped and skimmed, leafing backwards and forwards through a text as she wished, notions of specified order or plot be damned. She had not done so with Carlisle’s book, instead carefully locating a section in the index or table of contents and then cautiously reading it. But when her idle curiosity made her turn to the page titled, ‘“Incidentals,”’ the illustration made her shut the book with a decisive snap. 

She’d learned enough of the Volturi from living near them to determine that she didn’t need to know of their entire history. At least she hoped their history was actually history, and not present practise.

But the image before her, as with all of Carlisle’s careful illustrations, had been unmistakable in what it represented. She had no cause to doubt the connection she made between it and the Volturi. The curved wood of a partially concealed cylinder was expertly drawn, this placed inside a shuttered but unlocked window. The facing page featured an illustration of a popular tourist attraction she’d passed in her travels through the city, its facade now pocked with age but still recognizable from Carlisle’s drawing. It seemed that Volterra had not always been so safe for its resident humans. At least, not for its youngest and unwanted ones. She supposed that birth control and better medical treatment had made for poorer hunting amongst the city’s occupants.

From where did the Volturi pluck their meals these days? While she tried not to think of it, her mind wandered in the relatively formless days. She’d only seen the doomed crowds arrive twice, and her interest was nowhere near enough to motivate her to do any research on that grisly front. Still, she’d analyzed the clothing she’d recalled seeing, attempting to pin something to a geographic location. There were no patterns that she could see.

Edward had told her time and time again that his kind were monsters, but she’d seen only his goodness and that of his family. That willful blindness—for that was what it had been—was gone now. She no longer doubted Edward’s claims.

And like a pigeon’s habitual and near-monotonous call, her song was the same, but now it was silent:  _ I’m so sorry, Edward.  _

If she was truthful with herself, she had not read all of Carlisle’s words because it was too painful to hear his voice in her mind as it lifted the words from each printed page.

She glanced at her new computer. Another distraction from the narrowing tunnel of time and choices remaining. She had been in Volterra for three months, and so far had not found the slightest possibility of escape for either Edward or herself.

And Demetri . . . appeared undeterred.

Three months ago it had been easy to imagine his interest would diminish in the face of her response to him. How vastly she’d underestimated his determination.

And how much longer before they changed her? Or disposed of her? Until she was like them—red-eyed and draining children.

Her stomach turned, the high-pitched voices playing over in her head, chocolate bar wrappers crinkling.

Would she be able to resist? Could she live with herself if she didn’t? Would she care if she didn’t?

She thought of the Volturi’s red eyes and then of the Cullen’s golden ones. Then she thought of the brothers who comprised the Lower Order and their pale pink eyes. On what did they survive? Carlisle’s book had not said. Picking it up, she threw her manifold anxieties into loud steps towards the library, hurrying down the first stone steps, over the carpeted pathway to the book of records.

“Marcus?” she whispered. 

No one came. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone unanswered, but it was rare.

Gently, she set Carlisle’s book down on the small returns shelf.

Soft steps announced a sudden and quiet presence. “My lady?” Erastus said. “Marcus is attending his master. How may I assist you?”

“I . . .” she closed her mouth, suddenly uncertain of what to say. If Carlisle hadn’t written it down, perhaps it was secret? Or taboo?

“Are you well?” Erastus sounded anxious. Given the way she knew Demetri had tested him, she wasn’t surprised. 

“I’m well, thank you. I had a question, though, about the Lower Order. I’m not sure if I’ll offend or trouble you in asking.”

“Your questions will not offend me.” He sounded very certain of this.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, it’s just . . . your eyes. They’re not red, and they’re not gold. I wondered about their colour.” She hoped her question was both specific and vague enough at the same time. She felt like a chicken for not asking her question outright.

There was a placid sort of comprehension on Erastus’s face. “We touch living humans on pain of death or worse. We only touch the dead.”

Her suspicion was confirmed.

“Does this answer your question, my lady?”

Bella nodded, but there was more she wanted to know. “And how, when you’re new to this life, do you keep this rule?”

All comfort fled Erastus’s face. He shifted his weight between his feet.

“I’m sorry. I’ve asked too much.”

“No, you have given no offence. It is merely . . . difficult to recall. I am yet young. It was not so long ago, and my novitiate was long.”

Not just dressed like monks, but with their language, too. A novitiate. She did not imagine the Volturi made anything pleasant, one’s beginnings included.

“It is simple. We are restrained and exposed to that which we desire, then taught not to desire it.”

Restrained and exposed. Denied food but shown it. Taught not to desire it. Torture? Likely.

“I see.”

And that would be what it would take to not be a monster. Monstrous treatment or monstrous restraint, neither of which she could be sure of. No, the only thing she could be sure of was becoming a monster.

“Thank you,” she said.

After a moment, Erastus spoke again. “Is there anything else you require?”

Her fingers moved slowly over the leather of Carlisle’s book. She shook her head, watching him walk away. “What will I do?” she whispered to the book, wishing its author could counsel her in navigating the few choices remaining to her.

* * *

Author’s postscript for 2020-08-07: If you’re interested in the topic about which Bella reads in Carlisle’s book, I suggest reading up about Foundling Wheels. Fascinating stuff.

As always, my thanks to chayasara over on fanfiction.net, in particular this week for slapping away any disembodied actions that I seem so eager to write into my stories - mwah!

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	21. Flowers, Books & Freedom

A/N for 2020-08-08: Okay, people, I won't spoil any of Midnight Sun for those of you who haven't read it, but WOW, Jasper and Alice! Sooo cool.

Italian phrases have translations at the bottom of the page.

Chayasara edits like a boss. I kid you not. I can barely keep up with that woman. So give her some applause, people, because you wouldn't be getting chapters like you do without that woman's knowledge and skill.

~ Erin

* * *

The staccato knock on her door made Bella look up. "Just a moment, please," she said, putting her book down.

"Sbrigati!" came Gianna's exasperated voice.

Bella did not hurry. While she didn't want to offend the woman, she didn't feel the need to placate her either. As she walked, she rubbed at the tiny, finger-nail sized scar on her palm.

"Yes?" she asked politely, opening the door.

"Here," Gianna replied, shoving a suit bag and two boxes at her. "I was told you would handle this." She pivoted gracefully on one heel, leaving Bella to juggle her awkward armful, turning far less gracefully herself to put the haphazardly held items down on her small table.

She eyed the suit through the bag's plastic window. It was a deep navy blue, paired with a cream shirt and subtly patterned grey tie. Even through the plastic, she could see the garments were of good quality, the fine fabrics free of any imperfections. There were men's dress shoes in the small cardboard box, and the larger one was full of several thick files. She thumbed the labels, each full of what she thought must be Italian abbreviations. When she reached the bottom folder, she found a memo tacked to it. Scrawled neatly in the corner were the words: _Bella, your proposal is approved. You are responsible for training Marcus. ~ Demetri._

He'd made no mention of this the night before. But, she reminded herself, he hadn't mentioned destroying her laptop, either, after that happened or commented on its replacement or even referenced why he'd blown up the way he had. Nope, he'd pretended nothing had happened. _And now this . . . Well_ , she thought, _this is good. At least the Lower Order can experience the outside world._

_Or die if they touch a human._

"That's not going to happen," she told herself.

Vampires did not look excited, but after arriving at the library with her armful of apparel and files, Marcus very much looked like an excited vampire. His gaze ran repeatedly and quickly over the items on the table, a tentative finger brushing over the exposed suit fabric.

"You'll look very respectable in that," Bella assured him.

"You will show me how to purchase books?" Marcus asked, a cautious note to his voice.

"Yes," she said, smiling.

Very, very softly, Marcus asked, "Perhaps we could see trees? And flowers?"

Throat abruptly tightened, Bella was swamped by the realization. Outside. They never went outside. How long had Marcus been a vampire? And how had she failed to make this obvious conclusion? The castle sat within the middle of a walled city, and beyond the windows and roof of the sprawling stone complex, they were bound to their work inside.

"Of course," she managed to say. "I'll . . . I'll take you down to the gardens." Though still often rainy, the weather had begun to clear more and more, but they should be safe—

"Today?" Marcus asked, sounding suddenly trepidatious.

"Yes," Bella said, trying to sound firm and decisive.

"If you wish," Marcus said, demure again.

She thought of his obvious deference. "Marcus, when we're outside, you can't talk like that to me or to other people."

Marcus blinked at her, then frowned. "Then how should I speak to you?"

How indeed. "People will expect you to speak your mind. If you don't, they'll try to take advantage of you . . . not that they have much hope of succeeding. But it will . . . draw undue attention if you defer to me so obviously."

"As you say." Marcus dipped his head towards her.

 _It will take time to teach him_ , Bella reminded herself. This was a gigantic step and a gigantic responsibility for her. "Perhaps you can just follow my lead the first time. Do you have the list of books you'd like to buy?" Bella asked.

He did. It was a compendium of neatly written book titles that stretched for what looked like several hundred pages. Bella decided that step two of this plan would involve showing them how to order online. Still, to be able to give them the freedom to at least enter the city—she took a deep breath. She would do what she could here while her humanity remained—or before she could escape.

When they met at the front doors, Marcus held an umbrella and a suitcase and looked near giddy—at least, giddy for a vampire. His face held an expression like a smile, the corners of his lips suggesting they might rise in honour of this momentous occasion.

"Thank you for your instruction in this work," Marcus said solemnly.

"You're very welcome. Thank you for being an amazing librarian."

Yes. That _was_ something like a smile on his face.

As they pushed out of the vestibule, Bella turned to Marcus, watching his eyes widen as he took in the square, the fountain, and the loud cobblestone street. Women in business attire clacked by, some speaking into their phones, others chatting with colleagues and friends. Men moved more silently but just as audibly, she imagined for Marcus. With his nearly white hair and pale skin, he drew attention, but Bella knew most would think he was an albino, a curiosity, but not something which would create an unseemly stir in the Volturi's eyes. And his eyes—well, their pink was pale enough to pass for the colour one would expect in a pigmentless human.

"There's a garden this way," Bella said quietly, watching him take in the scene. He was too still. That _would_ gather stares. "Come on." She tilted her head to the right.

Marcus followed, keeping a proscribed few paces beside or behind her as they took the moderate walk towards the gardens. Old and ambling, the plants within the gardens were only moderately contained, heavy roses drooping over trestles, misshapen California lilacs buzzing with bees, and blue-studded rosemary pungent in the midday's warmth. Bella wiped her arm across her forehead. While it wasn't sunny, it was muggy, and she took a moment to mourn the loss of cut-off sweatpants and unfashionably comfortable shorts. But her self-absorption was only momentary.

Marcus bent with the grace that only a vampire could muster, bringing his nose to a pale white rose. He inhaled slowly, then released the breath and closed his eyes.

She knew the expression. It was one of remembrance that seemed universal to human and vampire alike. Though she was several steps away, Marcus still turned to her and acknowledged her observation with that expression that was almost a smile. "My mother used to grow these. I don't remember much of her, but I remember the smell."

There was so much loss spoken in those few words, they very nearly silenced all of Bella's too.

"I am ready for you to teach me," Marcus said, straightening.

The dampness on her cheeks had nothing to do with feeling hot. She wiped her face with her sleeve. "Well . . . let's go get some books, then. But we'll buy some flowers, too."

Television, it seemed, had been a better teacher to Marcus than Bella expected. He needed nothing more than the coaching she gave him prior to entering the store to use his credit card, tucking away the receipt that the bookseller gave him. Bella felt cruel, though, pulling him away from the bookshop. She watched him eye the selections longingly as they moved to the door.

"You can come back tomorrow," she said. Then she had to check herself. "If it isn't sunny." She'd need to teach him to check the weather.

So far, though, he had not behaved as she'd seen other Volturi vampires do. His movements, fluid and graceful, had not been contrasted with the strange stillness that gathered so much human attention. She wondered if it was the way he and the others studied humanity through the medium of television or if their attention to the products of so many human minds made them more interested in integrating with them. Perhaps it was only Marcus who was so adept at blending in with the people around them, but if it was, he was certainly a natural.

"I should get back," Bella said, glancing at her watch. She'd need time to shower and, ugh, change for dinner.

"I've kept you beyond your time," Marcus said, raising his head quickly.

"No, not at all. I've really enjoyed this." She had. She'd not had so many opportunities to teach someone, and she'd found it gratifying to watch him succeed at something that so obviously pleased him. "And now there are new books for the library. But let's get some flowers for you before we head back."

Stopping at one of the small vendors on the main street, Bella eyed the wide variety of flowers and premade bouquets. "Which ones?" she asked.

Marcus only had to step towards them and run his nose over their offerings, gently plucking the arrangement from the stand. Bella could smell the white roses from where she stood, several paces away. Turning towards her, Marcus glanced back to the store, indicating he'd be going inside to pay.

She felt a small swell of pride at this independence. "I'll wait for you."

She leaned back against the wall, arms folded in front of her, umbrella on her hand, shifting the strap of her satchel. The leather buckle tended to catch on her clothes, and it required frequent adjustments. She was so preoccupied with these movements that she didn't notice anyone approaching until her body prickled, feeling the presence only a few feet away.

"Ciao, Bella," the man's voice called

Cued by her name, Bella instantly turned her head toward the sound. She was confused when she realized that he was a stranger.

The young man grinned.

"Ciao," she answered politely, looking away. She didn't want whatever was behind the grin. Maybe he was selling tours, though she didn't think she looked too much like a tourist. Unfortunately, her obvious disinterest did not deter him.

"Al cielo manca un angelo ma l'ho trovata," he said, leaning an arm against the wall and winking at her.

She recognized the line. It was one that Silvio had taught her. Knowing better than to roll her eyes and encourage him, she turned her face away, "Sto aspettando il mio amico."

"American?" he asked.

She gritted her teeth. She'd rather hoped she could utter a few words without her accent giving her away.

"Bella?" Another voice called.

Marcus.

"Yes," she said, turning her back on the stranger, suddenly very, very fearful. She had no idea what Marcus would do, presented with this situation. What if he thought something untoward was going on with this completely innocent—though annoying—young man?

Finally, though, the stranger seemed to gather that his interest was not returned, and when she glanced nervously back at him, he was already walking away.

She exhaled more loudly than she had intended to.

"You're afraid," Marcus said, stepping closer.

"No."

"But you are." He frowned, looking at her as if puzzled. "Pardon me," he amended, "I meant no disrespect. I . . . wondered if you required assistance."

"No." Bella said again, the tightness in her chest easing.

"Should I have intervened?" Marcus asked, flowers and books in one arm, gesturing towards where the man had gone.

"Not at all," Bella said, still thinking, still trying to calm herself. After a few seconds, she said, "You asked me what I needed, and you listened to me. Thank you. That's exactly what you should do."

It was tentative, and almost confused, but it was a genuine smile.

As they entered the vestibule, Marcus stiffened.

"What?" Bella whispered.

Marcus shook his head, but his features were strained. Something was wrong.

Inside, Gianna stood up from the reception desk. "You're wanted downstairs, now." It was clear she wasn't speaking to Bella.

Marcus only nodded at her, turning briefly to give the same gesture of respect to Bella, then moving quickly away in the direction of the library.

Not that she expected an answer, but Bella figured she'd had a good enough day to be well insulated from disappointment. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Novitiate problems," Gianna muttered. Though she attempted to appear calm, Bella could see the woman was shaken. Her hands trembled, but her words were acidic. "I see they don't make _you_ stand in when they're short on supply."

And because her mouth seemed to operate before her brian could stop it, she found herself asking, "Stand in for what?"

Gianna's fine features twisted with what Bella recognized as acidic jealousy, this melting away to the fakest of saccharine smiles. "Why don't you follow him to find out?"

Bella knew better than to do anything anyone suggested with an expression like that on their face, so she went back to her room, took a shower, and then dressed to meet Demetri's expectations.

Gianna's words irked her, though, and she was concerned for Marcus. What was wrong? Had she made trouble for him, taking him outside? She glanced at the clock. It was only half past six. She had time yet to go to the library and come back before Demetri collected her.

She fished through her cupboards, finding a large glass to offer Marcus as a vase. On this pretext, she walked towards the library. Bella's movements were constricted by the dress, which was fitted to the knee, flaring out from there in a bell. She moved as quickly as she could, thinking about what Gianna had told her. The odious woman had seemed physically well enough, as far as Bella could tell. What would the Volturi use her for, beyond what they used most humans for?

As she rounded a corner, Demetri stood in front of her, startling her so that the glass flew from her hand.

He caught it and then her hand. "Where are you going?"

"The library." She tried to sound calm.

Demetri cocked his head. "Not now," he said.

She hated that he dictated so much of what she did. "I was going to bring Marcus a vase for the flowers we bought for the library."

Demetri stroked a finger down her cheek. "Now is not a good time for a human to be in the library."

"Why?"

She could see that her question displeased him. _No_ , she thought. _That I questioned him displeased him._

The displeasure on his features was fleeting. His icy finger became a cold palm on her cheek, and she shuddered at the contact. "My Bella, you do not understand our ways. And I think you would find them . . . unsettling. You are too innocent, yet. I will deliver this to the library for you. Wait in your room."

The last line was spoken with a terseness she did not dare disobey.

She turned, moving as slowly as she could, obeying his order with reluctance and resentment.

Unlike the library, the long stone corridors of the castle carried sounds, and as she inched her way to her room, she heard the faint sound of a musical phrase carried on some whim of a breeze. The sound of the piano cut off as abruptly as it began. It was mirrored by the unmistakable sound of a human voice shrieking, "NO!" This too, cut off as abruptly as it began as if a door had been opened and shut on it.

As if someone had gone into the library and opened and closed the door? She wasn't sure.

She did not need to think again about what Gianna had meant but moved more quickly to her room, her burgundy gown swishing before her like blood.

* * *

* Italian phrases in this chapter:

Sbrigati: Hurry up.

Al cielo manca un angelo ma l'ho trovata: Heaven lost an angel, but I found her.

Sto aspettando il mio amico: I'm waiting for my friend.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	22. Hell

A/N for 2020-08-10: This is the chapter for which the story's content warning is included. For those of you who want to know what you're getting into before you encounter it live, I've included a chapter summary at the bottom of the page, which picks up the story right after the first scene break.

Many, many thanks to chayasara for her work on this story. Please note, I tinkered with a bit of the text after she worked on it, so all errors are my own.

\- Erin

* * *

Alice's family, or rather, the remnants of her family as Alice saw them, crested the next peak, pausing to survey their expanded view and its possibilities for prey. Even in the airy reaches of the coast's green mountains, thick trees and mist obscured their sightlines.

"Got it!" Emmett whispered. A fat bear ambled along a distant and much lower slope. It would be well-fed on berries and salmon by now. Alice would normally smile to see Emmett delight in such sport.

Smiles were fewer these days for all of them, though.

Beside her, Jasper stood with his hand firmly wrapped around hers. Carlisle and Esme were nearby, also hunting. It was one of the times when she missed Edward least, but she still missed him.

There had been flashes of his and Bella's existence in Volterra, but there had been no solutions with these visions. Aro had been very clear on what would satisfy ransom for Edward and Bella, and Edward had been equally clear that he would refuse any of Alice's attempts to fulfill such a bargain. She couldn't know for certain, but she suspected Edward didn't trust Aro to keep his promises, so he wouldn't risk entangling more of his family without any kind of guarantee of anyone's freedom.

So she waited, her thoughts occupied by searching for Edward and Bella's futures, or any means by which they might be pried from Aro's grip. Even without her gift, she'd known that three of them would have been lucky to leave at all, not at least with the promise of Bella being turned. She had not foreseen the twisted way Aro had snatched up Edward and Bella, but once he had, she'd known what he wanted: her.

"Nothing appeals?" Jasper asked her.

She shrugged, twisting her mouth. She hunted when she had to, but school was almost done. There was no real need to participate in the human charade any more. She wasn't hungry in the way she would have been hungry before. She ate because she had to.

So when the images came in bright and almost painful flashes, Alice nearly collapsed and then curled into herself, seeing what she saw.

"Oh no!" she said. "No!" Her hand moved of its own volition, making a vice on Jasper's wrist, beginning to communicate with him the urgency of the decision that now had to be made.

\- 0 -

Demetri leant back against the headboard of Bella's bed, one leg casually bent, the other extended the length of the mattress. His hand rested on his knee. "Come to bed, my Bella."

Bella had expected him to be gone by the time she returned from the bathroom. He never stayed when she went to sleep, and she didn't like the alteration of this routine. But she had told him she was tired. Tired of his company. Now she looked for reasons to avoid joining him in the bed. She tugged the maroon robe tighter around herself. June's daytime weather was warm, but the evenings remained cool. She moved to the bookshelf, a finger tugging the top edge of a book back at an angle. "Would you read to me for a little?" she asked. He had at times, and this he did well. She preferred to read by herself, but if he read, it kept at least one of his hands occupied and away from her.

"Not tonight," he said. He shifted his posture, coming to lie on his side, head propped up by his hand. He yanked back the bed covers. "Come join me." His words were a command.

Bella let go of the book’s spine, watching it slip back into place. She envied it its safe and solitary space on the shelf, rather wishing she could find one for herself there or in the library. For a brief moment, her thoughts ran to the members of the Lower Order. She’d seen Marcus and one of his unnamed colleagues unpacking several large boxes of books in the lower levels. She’d shown them how to order online the week before, and well . . . the library’s collection was growing rapidly, the light-eyed vampires seeming happily busy with cataloguing, shelving and in a few cases, reading their latest acquisitions. Erastus, she had noted, seemed to be able to read and work at the same time, one hand cradling a book while his other tended to the collection.

Her happy thoughts ended there, though. Returning her attention to the present and her present company, she approached the bed slowly, hands still keeping the wrap closed around her. The nightgown wasn't revealing, but Demetri's continued presence into what was her own nighttime space made her feel exposed, her skin prickling in a way for which she did not care.

When she sat down on the bed, it was with her back half-turned to him, feet dangling over the edge, not quite ready to settle. So when his hands pulled her back towards him by her waist, she gasped in surprise.

"My Bella," he murmured, rubbing his chin against the back of her neck. Her back was flush against his front, one of his hands wrapped around her stomach. "This colour suits you," he said, his voice low and husky, his hand leaving her stomach, a finger brushing down her cheek to her collar bone. Then he sat up, releasing her to do the same, moving his hands back to himself.

Bella said nothing as she righted herself. She didn't want to encourage any further touching. And where she would have discouraged or openly refused him before, now she had reason to be very wary in doing so.

"I was angry with you the other day."

Almost without thinking, her gaze flicked to the desk and then back again. A replica of her old laptop had appeared the day after his outburst. It was identical to the previous one in all aspects. He had not yet commented on the old one's destruction or the new one's appearance.

"Your new computer works well?"

She nodded. Her mind was scrambling for a way to get him out of the room. Perhaps she could fake being ill?

His finger and its companions journeyed back towards her, snaking their way into her hair. She began to breathe shallowly at this touch. It would not be difficult to pretend she wasn't feeling well.

She was just opening her mouth when he spoke again. "I think I understand now why this intimacy has been so hard for you, my Bella." His fingers twirled a lock of her hair. "Edward never showed how he wanted you."

The words thumped into her midsection, but Demetri's ignorant fingers kept making their unwanted movements over her numb flesh.

"He refused you, and he hurt you with his refusal."

Demetri was silent for a moment, only his fingers talking as he swirled them round the crown of her head, raking them down to linger at the nape of her neck.

Bella made herself continue to be still. It would not do to shudder, as her body wanted to.

"And now you are afraid that I, like him, will reject you or abandon you."

Clearing her throat, she said, "Demetri, I don't feel very well."

He chuckled. "You are nervous, my Bella. This is understandable."

"No," she said, "I think I'm coming down with something. I feel ill."

Demetri's hand cupped her cheek and his lips brushed just beside hers. "You fear rejection. Your sense of self was cruelly and unnecessarily diminished by his stupidity. I want you to know that I would never do that to you, my Bella. I will not deny you the pleasure and closeness of such intimacy."

The horror of what he meant was another hit to her stomach. It wasn't a lie anymore that she felt sick. "I don't want—"

"Oh, you do. Edward was very clear about that."

 _He'd—?_ Bella closed her eyes. The brutality of the betrayal was a fist twisting her gut. _What did you expect? Edward is a vampire. You offered him up to creatures he despises. Of course he's lashing out at you._

"You must have been _very_ hurt by that refusal to react this way."

Oh, she was hurt alright and becoming angry now, too. Edward had told Demetri all of this? She'd known that he felt betrayed by the bargain she'd made, but this? She'd never expected him to talk about _this_. The anger boiled over top a very full well of grief.

"Were you, Bella?" His voice suggested that not answering would not be appreciated.

"Yes."

He sounded smug when he spoke. "I was right."

_Asshole._

"I'm sorry you were hurt." This seemed genuine.

She kept her eyes down, but a cold set of fingers lifted her chin.

"I will not refuse you."

Excellent. The vampire she wanted nothing to do with was offering her physical intimacy.

Then he leaned forward and kissed her, and Bella realized that his use of the future tense might be more immediate than distant. She pulled away from his lips.

"I know you are afraid," Demetri murmured, his hands circling around her back as her hands startled upwards, trying to push him away. He seemed oblivious to the reaction. "Of course you are afraid. He told you he would hurt you if you were intimate with him."

Oh my God. "I don't want—"

His mouth stopped her next objection with a kiss, pressing her down into the bed. "I would never hurt you."

The horror at what he proposed was wordless and full of fear. "Demetri, I don't want to be with you this way. I'm not ready—"

"You are ready, my love, but you are naturally anxious." His hands cupped her hips and slid upwards, fingers cradling her ribs, thumbs nuzzling her breasts over the fabric of her gown.

She shoved at him hard, gaining a few inches distance from his stony presence. "I don't want to have sex with you."

Demetri chuckled. "Set your fears aside. I will be very gentle." His hands clutched her hips as he pulled her back towards his chest. "I have had many lovers before, human and vampire alike. I know how to pleasure a woman even if she is a virgin."

Bella remembered Edward's very articulate reasons for not doing this very thing, and now Bella recalled all the ways she'd flinched at Demetri's too-rough touches, how she'd had to warn him repeatedly when he first held her arm too tightly. If he didn't kill her doing this, he would very likely nearly do so. Or she would be changed. The physical trauma James had inflicted on her was still fresh enough to make her want to quail, fight, and panic all at once.

"I will make you feel very great pleasure," Demetri murmured. His one hand began unbuttoning his shirt, the other giving himself leverage to lean over and suck at her lips. When she tried twisting her face away, he exerted more pressure, trapping her head under his mouth, his tongue pushing into her mouth.

A wave of profound dizziness made her body go slack. She heard the sound of his belt buckle and then zipper, his trousers sliding away, cold legs over hers. She didn't want to look, and she didn't need to. The salient appendage pressed into her satin-clad thigh, his arousal as subtle and soft as a sledge-hammer.

Bella's breathing kept pace with her heart. She couldn't fight him, and she couldn't run away. Her mind offered nothing else she could use against his advances beyond her words. Those had yet to sway him against his own desires. Screaming would be of no use, either, for who would come to her aid? Certainly not the members of the guard. Certainly not—and though she didn't want to finish the thought, it finished itself— _certainly not Edward._

When he released her lips, her voice shook with her request. "Please, Demetri, I don't want to do this—"

"Shh." He pressed his finger to her lips. "I know you are afraid. I will be very careful, I promise."

He was going to rape her. She considered throwing those very words at him but stopped herself. He was so vain, so stuck in his own characterization, she couldn't be certain what such a truth would do. However, she did know that she would be the very convenient target of whatever feeling that provocative word might rouse. If he wanted to tell himself that he was going to be gentle, then perhaps that was better than potentially giving him permission to be violent.

Even so, she couldn't make herself comply with his wishes, and when he inched closer, her hands flailed out and tried to smack him away.

Demetri clasped her wrists gently with one of his own. He kissed them. "No, cara mia, you will hurt yourself. Breathe. Let me pleasure you."

Her arms now restrained over her head, she locked her knees together.

Demetri chuckled, making his rocky knee a wedge against her much softer ones. She resisted, using all her force to keep her thighs together. He leaned over her, whispering things she wished to unhear, his knee prying her legs apart, leaving her muscles aching and quivering with the wasted effort.

"There," he cooed, releasing her wrists and rubbing a hand over her hair. He continued to nuzzle at her neck for a long time, his murmured words incomprehensible.

"I want to see you," he said, and without waiting brought his teeth down on the top of her nightgown, neatly ripping the top seam and then using his fingers to continue the lengthening of this fissure down the garment.

Bella shivered. He was very, very cold, and the fear wracking her mind and body was rapidly unravelling the last vestiges of her self-control. Her eyes watered with tears.

"Cosi bella," he purred.

He began to kiss her jaw, each cold exhale chilling her further. He nuzzled and licked down the length of her throat, his mouth seeming to clamp onto where her shoulder and neck met. Then he growled, a low and guttural sound that made her instantly stop moving, breathing, or crying.

When he moaned her name what felt like ages later, she let herself inhale. It was the shallowest of breaths, as if too much air might draw more of his attention back to her.

Her gaze couldn't find a safe place to land. It flew from one perch to the other, clasping first at the wardrobe corner and then the ceiling pattern. Finally, some part of her brain suggested that it might be easier if she just closed her eyes. So she did. Willfully blind, her body still insisted on translating for her mind each of Demetri's unwanted and bruising touches to her lips, her breasts, her hips, and finally, to the place between her legs.

\- 0 -

In the days between Demetri's last bout of questions and the current moment, Edward had allowed himself the benefit of a healthy dose of denial after the profoundest of the rage had passed.

His livid jealousy was a constant in his existence, simmering to a point that even Aro ignored it. Edward could not do so.

 _Demetri would not be so stupid_ , Edward had told himself in response to Demetri's questions. He was an arrogant idiot and an ass, but he wasn't stupid. He wanted his chance to conduct his experiment—Edward had shuddered at the phrase—and doing what he'd asked about would end any chance of successfully doing so.

However, as Jane's powers pinned Edward to the audience chamber's stone floor, his body flailing in pain, Edward saw that he had not just been wrong, he had himself engaged in the worst kind of arrogance and foolishness.

Demetri had ignored all of Bella's other wishes in this regard. How had he let himself think he would respect them with this?

Edward's muscles strained against Jane's torture, one hand slapping out against the rocky floor, wrenching his body forward by an inch in the direction of Bella's room.

"I will not have you interfering, Edward," Aro said smoothly.

Edward's other hand flapped forward, fingernails crumbling the shallow lip of the floor to dust, trying to move himself towards his goal by another fraction of an inch.

If there was any virtue to the pain, it dulled the witness his mind bore to Demetri's thoughts and muffled with Edward's own screams, the panicked breathing and words that were coming from Bella.

"Enough, Jane." Aro sighed. "Alec?"

"No!" Edward said, whether to this or to what Demetri was doing, it wasn't clear even to him, but Alec's powers, though quick, did not obscure his gift. In the absence of his own feeling, everything Demetri thought, saw, smelled, and touched was as real to Edward as if it were he assaulting Bella.

"Demetri, bring your lips to Bella's neck, please," Aro called.

No sound escaped anyone's notice in the castle, and all Aro had to do was utter these words and Demetri complied.

Edward's body, just like Bella's, became perfectly still.

 _That is better, Edward. You know the terms under which we operate. You had your opportunity, and now Demetri has his. If you prefer, we can test the final results of this experiment and have her change begin this way. I imagine it would be similar to your sister's transformation . . ._ Aro's thoughts continued from there, recalling for Edward his own memories of Rose and the horrors of her early days. Aro had not missed the permanent way she'd been marked by the rape that ended her life.

Edward lay face-down on the floor in horrified silence, watching Demetri be pulled by the sweetness of the blood right beneath his lips.

Edward heard Aro's voice in Demetri's thoughts. "Demetri, you may—"

"I desist!" Edward called.

The world returned to Edward, Alec's gift lifted from him.

"As you were, Demetri," Aro called out. "Come, Edward. I should like to see how Demetri's efforts unfold."

Edward rose slowly from the floor, his body mechanically carrying him towards Aro. With his gift, he could not black out the witness of what Demetri was doing to Bella. The other parts of him wanted to shut down and crumble at what they were being forced to see and hear, but his corporeal form moved him to stand beside Aro, a dry hand accepting the touch of his now numb one.

He endured as he could only hope she endured. Each of Demetri's movements was a torturous anticipation of mortal wounding on Bella's part.

When the rape ended, he could hear and practically feel Demetri's burning throat.

"Find the dottore, Demetri," Aro called. "It won't do to have that cause problems for you or anyone else."

And then Edward was left with no sight of Bella, listening only to her distressed breaths and muffled sobs, these etched into his memory that could forget nothing. Along with them, he carved the resolve that he would save her, at whatever cost must be paid to the monster beside him.

Aro laughed. "I look forward to that, Edward. Truly, I do. But for now, perhaps you should hunt. A reminder, though, of what will happen to Bella if you do interfere." His thoughts played out the consequences to Bella.

So warned and dismissed, Edward walked from the room like a ghost, half-wishing against his wish that he could die.

* * *

Trigger warning: Sexualized violence / assault / rape.

Chapter summary from after the first break: Bella readies herself for bed, coming out of the bathroom to find Demetri in her bed. He explains that he now understands why she's been so reluctant to be intimate with him—that Edward has hurt her repeatedly with his refusal to do so. He calmly explains that their being intimate (having sex) will bring them closer together. Bella refuses him, but he doesn't listen to her. The beginning of the assault is described, which includes kissing and then a one-sentence description of Demetri touching Bella's unclothed body. The scene then switches to Edward's perspective in the throne room, where Aro first uses Jane and then Alec to keep Edward from interfering with Demetri's "experiment." When this doesn't work, Aro threatens Edward with having Demetri change Bella. Terrified that Demetri will kill rather than change Bella, and horrified by either possibility, Edward agrees to stop trying to interfere. When Demetri's assault is over, it's clear that Bella is injured, and Aro orders Demetri to fetch the doctor. Edward resolves to find a way out for himself and Bella. Aro laughs at this resolution and then sends Edward to hunt, but not before warning him of what will happen to Bella if he again attempts to interfere with Demetri's experiment.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	23. Mending & Ending

A/N for 2020-08-11: Still with me?

Chayasara is still amazing, still editing, and still teaching me new things.

\- Erin

* * *

Bella had not left the bed, not because Demetri had told her not to, but because what parts of her didn't hurt or ache were simply too exhausted to do anything else. Even so, she couldn't sleep, drained as she was. Her body throbbed painfully against the need to rest.

She watched the moonlight creep across the grooves in the floor, trying to see when one windowpane of light would make that last leap into its neighbouring stone. The progression was so slow as to be almost imperceptible.

When she heard footsteps approaching, she bunched herself up against the headboard. If the footsteps were audible, whoever it was wanted her to know they were coming. If they didn't care if she knew—

Her scream was swallowed in frozen panic when the door thumped open.

"Tend to her," Demetri said, all but shoving Dr. De Luca inside. Demetri flicked on the light before closing the door. The doctor righted himself from the awkward stance Demetri's push had left him in.

"Good evening, signorina, or good morning," he said quietly. His shaky voice was reassuringly human.

Bella couldn't quite find her voice. She nodded.

"I understand you are hurt."

Her throat tightened and she nodded again.

Dr. De Luca gave a tiny sigh, shouldering his bag and moving farther into the room. He set the large case down exactly where he'd set it before.

Bella marvelled that she remembered that. After what had happened, she remembered where he'd put his bag.

"Where are you hurt?"

She recalled where he'd put his bag. Precisely.

"Signorina?"

The overhead light had made the moonlight invisible. This seemed very important.

"Signorina, please." Dr. De Luca's words were a whisper. "I do not wish to displease Signor Stefani."

Bella closed her eyes and found her voice. "I'm hurt inside."

"Where?"

"In-side." The word slid upwards, as if it had lost its footing on the way out. Her hand had slipped out of the covers gesturing to where she was hurt.

"I see." He spoke quietly. "I will need to examine you."

She'd opened her eyes again without really realizing it, staring at her one hand, still clutching the bedclothes, the other pointing. She put both of them back under the covers. She didn't want to be touched. But if she said no, Demetri would very likely take his displeasure out on the man in front of her, and then find another person who would have to touch her.

Dr. De Luca's forehead was creased. She couldn't tell if it was out of concern, fear, or pity, and she didn't care.

She tolerated his touch by breathing through it and pretending it wasn't happening. She did flinch when he reached the aggrieved regions of her body.

"I imagine that is quite painful," he murmured, moving away. "I will need to stitch the wound." The room was loud with the snap of his removing his gloves.

The wound. It was a smile that stretched across her face, and a disbelieving, snorting giggle that came out of her nose.

Still, Dr. De Luca looked at her with that mystifying face. Then he turned and fished through his bag. "Take this, please." He returned with a tiny pill in his hand.

Bella stared, and her laughter petered out.

"Please put this under your tongue." He seemed more sure of himself now. This was an order. She rapidly assessed his physique, his height, his weight. Yes, he could compel her if he wished.

She obeyed.

Then Dr. De Luca seemed to wait, sitting on the edge of the bed. Bella could not tell for what period of time, but eventually he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Bella said. A little detached, too. She liked it. "Can I have more of those?"

Dr. De Luca looked down at his hands. He spoke quietly. "Yes, I will leave a prescription for you."

The needle stung. All needles stung. Apparently, all pricks stung, too. Or left holes. Dicks, Bella thought. Men were dicks. Edward had been a dick. Demetri was a total dick.

And she could barely believe she was thinking this. But it was true.

The doctor didn't seem to be much of a dick—"Ow!" She quickly revised her opinion. Another needle sting helped it along.

Already so dulled and exhausted by the trauma of the rape and then the drug, Bella barely noticed when he was done.

"Signorina, you must rest in bed for tomorrow, and then only walk short distances for the next three days. After that, you may begin walking again a little bit more. But you must abstain from intercourse for several weeks. Your body needs time to heal."

Yes, she decided, getting fucked by vampires was bad for your health. The laughter returned, more feeble this time.

"I will remove the stitches in a week. Buona notte, signorina," the doctor called, turning and walking to the door. He put out the light before he went, and to Bella, it felt like the end of the world. She turned back over in the bed and was sucked into a sleep that felt blissfully like death.

\- 0 -

There were several vials of pills on her bedside when she awoke the next morning, as were a glass of water, a thermos of coffee, and a basket of pastries. The prescribed medications were in her fake name, instructions on the bottles, printed neatly by hand in English. She ignored the food and coffee and took the pills and then promptly went back to sleep. When the need to urinate forced her from her bed, she did so, wincing as she walked and used the toilet, and then returning to the bed. She was a mass of throbbing bruises in places no one should be bruised. She took the painkillers first and then the blue pills. She decided that they were her favourites, and while she very much desired more of their effect, she could only take so many of them and only sleep so much.

When the light had curved its way out of sight of her room, Demetri appeared by the bed.

His hand brushed over her hair, and though well-drugged, she became fearfully still.

"What makes your heart beat so?" he cooed, the heavy hand repeating its trail down her head.

Was he so obtuse?

"The dottore said you must rest, but you should eat, cara mia. Shall I bring you some different food?" he asked.

"No," she whispered. She didn't want to eat. She didn't want to exist. She closed her eyes, wanting him to go away, wanting to pretend what had happened would never happen again.

But it would happen again, she knew. Her hope of finding a way out was gone. So long as she was human, Demetri could do anything to or with her that he pleased. Even when or if she was turned, she doubted there would be much choice in the matter. A newborn's strength was no guarantee against what the guard's exceptional powers could do. Though she seemed immune now, immortality was no guarantee of immunity then. She'd seen enough of Volturi justice to know what would await her if she refused Aro's will. Aro's will seemed to be Demetri's at the moment.

She shuddered briefly.

And Edward didn't want her. He had actively aided Demetri in all of his efforts. This final betrayal stabbed not just at the habitual hurt in her torso, but at the very will she had to live.

There was no point anymore.

"I am tired," she said. "I'd like to rest."

_I'd like to die._

He sighed in displeasure. "Very well. Tomorrow you will eat, though."

"Yes," she said, "tomorrow."

His steps were inaudible, but she knew he was gone by the springing up of the mattress. Her eyes opened, and she studied the ceiling and the window as her gaze drifted from one to the other.

In all her months here, she had hoped for an escape, desperate and unlikely as it was, learning what she could, making connections wherever she thought a hope might be, but now she saw with a brutal clarity that the only escape would be a permanent one, one that took her from her body. Her gaze rolled back towards the bedside table and the many pills. They were enough, she knew, from what she'd found in the Volturi's ugly storage rooms. More than enough.

She would see the sun tomorrow, and she would eat, and she would send what farewells she could to those she loved and to those who didn't love her back. And then she would escape. Permanently.

_Tomorrow._

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	24. Escape

A/N for 2020-08-12: As always, my thanks to Chayasara for editing.

\- Erin

* * *

"Wake up, my Bella. It is time for you to eat."

Bella didn't open her eyes for a moment. She remembered with great clarity the decision she'd made the night before. But she had promised herself she would eat today, and so she opened them, blinking against the dull light of a cloudy day. This made tears well up in her eyes. She'd so hoped to see the sun, just one more time. Blinking against her watering eyes, she sat up partway, resigned to her last day being sunless.

 _But it is the last_ , she told herself, and there was great peace in this decision. Yes, the last.

Demetri sat beside her, a tray in his hands. The habitual thermos of coffee rested on it, two warm cornetti on an adjacent plate. She could not have picked a better last breakfast.

Her aching arms finished pushing her upwards to a sitting position. She tried very hard not to wince. Sitting was painful. "Thank you," she said, smiling with deception she thought even the Cullens would find impressive.

"You are more yourself today," Demetri said, smiling. He looked smugly pleased.

And for a few more hours, Bella determined she could endure his smug, self-centred, condescending, and patronizing attention because it would be the last day she had to submit herself to it.

"Will you study this morning?" he asked. He brushed the bruise at her wrist with his finger, frowning.

She nodded, focusing on the bite of pastry in her mouth. It was so, so good. Unlike him.

"I'm sorry, but I shall not be able to take you for dinner tonight. I'll be away on business until the early hours tomorrow." His hand pushed up the sleeve of her gown, and she stopped moving. He repeated the action on the other side, turning her arm slightly as he looked for bruises. There were none there. Apparently satisfied by this cursory examination, he let the sleeves fall and leaned back.

Bella made herself continue chewing, suppressing a shudder. She would not be forced to endure more physical inspection or witness the no-doubt successful end of his "business." "Okay," she said softly, realizing his absence would enable her plans.

"But I look forward to returning to you shortly as I look forward to you being well."

The hand she had come to dread brushed down her face and her ribs, grazing her breast, finally resting on her hip. "You will enjoy our lovemaking when you are better."

Her bite of pastry felt like it had stopped halfway to her stomach. She reached for the glass of water by the bed.

 _Today_ , she told herself. _Today_. She would escape today.

As always, neither her assent nor acknowledgement were required for his departure.

She abandoned the rest of her breakfast, opting to stand under the weak spray of hot water that passed for a shower, washing and wishing she had some sweet scent to hold onto. She added buying flowers or perfume to her list of last tasks.

At the wardrobe, she stood for some time, staring at the choices it offered. What do you wear for your last day on earth?

"Things that make you happy," she murmured. She chose the blue blouse that flirted with tiny topaz flowers at its hem, along with the simple capris and a jacket that had seen so much wear in the tiny cafés around Volterra. She still loved the colour of Edward's eyes even though they had stopped loving her.

Walking anything more than a short distance proved to be painful, and after making her way to the rotunda outside her room, Bella knew that she would not be able to venture much farther than the Volturi's front door. So she did, smelling the air and hoping for more than the cloud-muted sun. A few familiar trees poked their heads above the city walls, and she wished each of them farewell.

She spent the morning in bed drafting her last three pieces of correspondence to her mother, her father, and Jacob. She would send them after she took the pills when she was sure they were starting to take effect.

There had been the suggestion of tears when she began to write, but it was more her brain than her heart that made these last missives, the cold logic of her release clear before her.

When the door opened, she looked up with resentment to see who had interrupted her final pieces of work. There was no room for fear anymore. She would be beyond the clutch of anyone or anything soon enough.

"Bella?"

Her fingers paused over the laptop keyboard, half-perched to strike another letter, mind wrestling with the identification her whole self had made. For a brief moment, she wondered if he was even corporeal, but it was only briefly.

"We can leave, but we need to leave now," Edward said. His voice shook with some urgency she didn't understand.

She stared at him. His words had registered, but they were simply too impossible to be real. What was this then, some game? Some testing Demetri had devised in his absence?

She had her way home. Her gaze sought the bedside table. Yes, the pills were there. With that salient fact confirmed, she turned her eyes back to the computer screen.

"Bella." His voice was louder now, some earnest emotion there. Then his hand was on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" She dropped the laptop onto the bedspread and then scrambled off the mattress, her sore body protesting the abrupt series of movements.

Her reptilian brain assured her that she didn't have to be touched by one of them again.

They were face to face, the bed between them, Edward's eyes full of confusion and something like pain.

Of course, she thought. It would be painful for him to be here. Demetri would have deliberately chosen Edward to administer this test of her loyalty.

 _But it will be over soon,_ she thought.

Edward shook his head slightly. "No," he said. He seemed angry.

About what or to whom he was speaking, Bella wasn't sure.

"We're going." This sounded more like a command.

She didn't want to go anywhere. Not in that sense.

Edward's voice was low and urgent when he spoke next. "Alice and Jasper have come here and . . . given themselves up so that we can leave, Bella. If we stay, we make their sacrifice for nothing, and we won't have the choice again."

Still, she didn't move, paralyzed by fear that any kind of reaction to him would rob her of her planned—her _guaranteed_ —freedom. This _must_ be some sort of trick.

"Please," Edward said, holding out his hand. "Come with me. Alice is here waiting to see you."

She thought of Alice's last words to her: _We will never abandon you._ Yet, Bella had more reasons to doubt than to believe since the day she heard Alice utter those words.

Still, Alice _had_ returned for her in Forks. Alice _had_ helped her save Edward— _but for what?_ she asked herself. Even so, it was on Alice's name that a tiny and most dangerous trace of hope hooked itself.

_This is a trick, though, surely. Don't be stupid!_

Bella made herself look at Edward, this too a tenuous—or foolish—act of faith. His eyes were a dirty amber, the colour of looming hunger. At least, she told herself, he had retained that part of himself in this ugly place. If this wasn't some trick, he might someday go home without shame. He would have his family. Someday.

Edward gestured to the door. "Quickly, please. If there's anything you want to take with you, get it now."

He was determined with his mission, then. Perhaps he feared displeasing Aro by not testing her thoroughly.

She wanted to look towards the pills but instead eyed the wardrobe. What she needed was only a few moments alone. "I just need to change."

"I'll be right outside the door." He didn't break eye contact for the first few steps, walking towards the entrance of her room.

Palming the vial of pills silently, Bella then opened the wardrobe, shuffling through the hangers for good measure and pulling off a shirt and a pair of trousers. In the bathroom she poured herself a glass of water and then tried to open the small plastic container. The lid was just coming off when the door opened and the container was snatched from her hand. The pills scattered as Edward threw the vial away from her.

His hand clamped around her wrist. "No. You will not do this to yourself."

Bella quailed against his grip which while not violent itself, reminded her of the violence that was still fresh on her flesh.

When he spoke, it was with a perturbing calm. "Bella, you're coming with me." He did not say where, and she did not imagine that this absence of information was good.

They were going to stop her. _He_ was going to stop her!

"No!" she said, trying to pull away, her other hand reaching for the pills. "No!"

The repeated word echoed down the hallway as Edward picked her up, his arms a cold and unwanted restraint. She closed her eyes, knowing her struggle was useless, letting her body go slack. Knowing their arrival in the throne room was imminent, she tried to tell herself it didn't matter, to prepare herself for whatever was going to happen. It would either be an immediate death, or a more drawn-out death as a monster among monsters.

"Bella?" Alice's voice asked.

_Alice?_

Edward's hands slowly released her, and she found her feet, wobbling like a kitten as she blinked to find Alice and Jasper wearing— _Oh God_ , she thought—wearing the grey mantle of the Volturi.

And then that dangerous hope flickered like a flame. If they were here, was it true? Were they leaving? She felt guilty just for thinking it. But this was no trick. They were not in the throne room but the dimly lit parkade she'd been in before. She looked at Edward, who had stepped back, giving her space.

"We were allowed to say goodbye," Alice said softly.

Bella stood frozen to the spot. She watched Alice and Jasper embrace Edward in turn. Then the pair looked at Bella but did not attempt to move near her.

"You're going to be okay, Bella," Alice said. "You're going home. But you should go now, before . . ." She glanced upwards and then to Edward, eyeing him meaningfully. "You should go now, just to be safe." When Alice looked back at Bella, it was with apology in her face. "I love you like a sister, Bella. I'm so sorry we couldn't stop—I'm sorry." Bella caught the look Edward was giving his sister. It was pained, several emotions twisting together on his face.

"We really do need to leave now," Edward said softly, almost apologetically. "Bella, this way." He had stepped closer but not so enough that he might be able to touch her. He pointed towards the cars. His body was tense with a kind of anxiety she understood too well.

It was like walking under water, first one step, then another as she followed him towards a vehicle.

"Here," Edward said. He held the door open to a bright yellow car. Was it—?

"Alice said you would recognize the car."

She did. It was the same one, or nearly the same one, they'd arrived in. Such symmetry.

Was she really going home?

_Home?_

Never had home been a possibility, and now she could hardly credit it with belief. But she was in a car, with Edward. She watched him start it, and then the blackness of the parking garage receded into the dull light of day. When they passed through the city gates, she realized she'd been breathing in tiny, shallow pants. With each passing mile, that tightness lessened until she began to believe that she might have indeed escaped.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	25. Withdrawn

A/N for 2020-08-14: Many, many thanks to Chayasara for her generosity in beta-ing this story.

I also owe thanks to Eeyorefan12 for giving me some much appreciated nudges here and there in terms of plot and character development.

\- Erin

* * *

The drive south to Rome passed in a numbed haze. At any given moment, Bella half-expected to wake from the resolution to this nightmare and find Demetri waiting for her, coffee or dinner plans or further bodily violations at his disposal.

As he had always done so, Edward drove quickly, the world around them whipping by in a distorted blur. At several points, he asked her if she needed to stop, and finally, if she was feeling all right. At each, she shook her head, offering a quiet, "I'm fine." There was no other conversation. Why would there be? Now over the shock of their departure, Bella was keenly aware of how much Edward must resent having to take her along, too. Because surely it had been Alice who insisted he do so. After what Bella had done, she knew that Edward would loathe her.

When they reached the outskirts of Rome, Edward pulled off the highway and parked in front of a large mall.

He didn't look at her when he spoke. "We can't go through customs without any luggage or without anything in our luggage."

"Right." Bella knew she'd spoken, but it felt like the word had escaped from someone else's mouth.

"Alice brought this for you." Edward held out a plain and unfamiliar handbag.

She took it, carefully avoiding his fingers. When she peered inside, she found her wallet, keys, and passport. All her cards were still in her wallet, along with the lira they'd purchased at their stopover in Chicago. Bella had been so sick with worry for Edward and had only said yes to finding the currency to placate Alice. She wondered now if Alice had seen her needing it, but she dismissed this thought quickly. Alice only saw the outcome of decisions, and there had been many between then and now.

"Thank you," Bella said. For all the resentment he must be feeling towards her, he was still treating her with courtesy and dignity. She rather wished he would give up the pretense and wondered if or when he would. Whatever the case, she knew she was an unwanted obligation. It was Alice, she was sure, who would have pressed her brother to accept this duty.

She would do her best to lessen the imposition she was making on him then. "I'll meet you back here. I'll try to be quick." Bella hooked the purse strap over her arm, a hand on the passenger door handle.

"If you prefer," Edward said.

Nodding, Bella left as quickly as she could.

She was a fast shopper, hindered only by the soreness in her body, which affected her far more than she wished. She had to pause several times as she moved through the building and give her body time to express its several throbbing aches.

When she couldn't find the jeans she was looking for, she asked a sales associate for help, and the woman eyed her with curiosity. She supposed it was strange, having a couture-clad American who knew Italian, shopping at the GAP.

After making her utilitarian selections, Bella moved further into the mall and located a shoe store. She bought running shoes and socks and then went in search of a pharmacy, purchasing a toothbrush, her favourite toothpaste, and scented deodorant.

She wasted no time in getting to a bathroom, changing into a t-shirt and jeans, leaving the old clothes in the garbage. Her feet felt strange in the sneakers, almost as if they were too comfortable, too unconstrained. The notion made her laugh aloud. A passing woman stared, and Bella looked down again, swallowing the rest of the laughter. She needed to hurry, anyway.

Beside a garbage can on the way back to the main area of the mall, Bella stopped and looked at her left hand. Her fingers were sore, along with her wrists—along with so many other things. Twisting at the ring, she struggled to dislodge it, hands shaking as she finally succeeded in removing it from her finger. She looked at it for a solid minute before throwing it into the trash.

She continued her sojourn through the mall, feet still feeling strange. It was like learning to walk again, moving in her new footwear, and she padded carefully back the way she'd come, still hobbled by the limited movements her body allowed. The memories that accompanied such discomfort were ones with which she did not wish to currently contend.

With her eyes steadily down in front of her, she didn't realize she was being summoned until the accented, "'Signorina'," was right beside her.

"Signorina?" a tall man asked.

Bella blinked at the face in front of her. For his looks, he might have been Nordic, strong cheekbones and fair hair with a wide, white smile.

"Si?" Bella asked.

"Did you drop this?" the man asked, holding out Bella's wallet.

She patted her pocket. She was sure she'd put it in the front pocket of her jeans—

"No, she didn't."

Her very hackles rose. She'd imagined herself free and clear of all vampires, but the voice—Edward's—was so perfectly formed, it made her shiver in the midst of all the humanity around her.

When she looked in Edward's direction, he was glaring at the man in front of Bella.

"I'd appreciate it if you would put back everything you took out of her wallet." His voice was dangerously formal.

Bella began to tremble, her body not liking the conflict her mind was imagining unfolding. She pointed her voice in Edward's direction. "It's fine—"

"It's not fine. He's taken your license, credit cards, and cash."

"I have returned her wallet. I am no thief!" the man stammered.

But Edward had stepped closer, blocking the man's exit. "All of it," Edward hissed, low enough to avoid attracting attention from any passersby but just loud enough for Bella and the man to hear it.

"I didn't—"

"Now," Edward growled. His face lost all its human features.

Bella watched the stranger's hands fumble for her money and cards. He apologized quickly and profusely in Italian when he dropped some of it, bending over and handing it all back with shaking fingers. He scurried away once it had all been returned.

"Are you going to hurt him?" Bella asked. She clutched the awkward bundle of cards and cash to her chest.

Edward didn't answer immediately.

She wasn't afraid for the man, but she was afraid for Edward, and in the fraction of the moment it took him to answer, she feared for the man she'd once known. The one who had worked so hard to maintain his humanity. Principles she'd thrown aside in bargaining for his life—

"Of course I won't hurt him," Edward said softly. He sounded offended by the suggestion.

She let out her lungful of air. "Good." She didn't know what else to say.

"Did you really think I would?" he asked.

"No."

But it wasn't a very certain no. Perhaps his time with the Volturi had changed him. Perhaps the time before then had changed him. She hadn't considered that. He had left. She'd thought she knew him then. Perhaps she'd never really known him at all, because he'd said he never loved her. She was just a distraction.

A distraction he had shoved at Demetri.

She shook her head, abruptly wordless.

"We still need suitcases," Edward said, lifting his chin towards her shopping bag.

She nodded, and still carefully avoiding eye contact, walked parallel to him, dodging into the first store that had luggage in its window. She picked a small wheeled bag, and he, a duffel. When she went to pay, he blocked her path.

"I'll pay," he said.

"I can pay myself," she said, almost instinctively, making the mistake of meeting his gaze.

It was the relief in her midsection that hit her first, but then as he moved, the very perfect way his body angled itself, not to do anything threatening but simply to move, the revulsion clawed its way up from her stomach to her throat. He was a vampire, and her body could not yet forget even though her mind wished to, what vampires were so incredibly capable of doing. Without fully realizing it, she twisted her torso a quarter turn away from him.

A volley of feelings rippled over Edward's face before he spoke. "I think you've paid enough for my mistakes, but I don't want to force the issue. Any issue."

_What?_

She stared at him as he paid. His words made no sense, or perhaps her brain was making no sense, or perhaps she was attributing to his words more meaning than they deserved.

Edward didn't give her much time to ponder this. "We should get to the airport." He paid for both bags, Bella saying nothing, trying not to pull more from his statement than was present.

As they drove towards the airport, she told herself that it was normal to feel confused and unfocused. Her body was grappling with the effects of several shocks, after all. So when Edward took charge of the tickets and the bags and all the interactions with people, she didn't attempt to interfere, standing numbly behind him as dumb as the luggage.

"You haven't eaten," Edward said, as they waited at the gate.

"I don't need to," Bella replied. She didn't. She wasn't hungry. She wasn't anything.

Edward looked frustrated.

Was he worried she'd pass out or something?

"I'm fine, but thank you." He would be free and clear of her soon enough. Through the increasing haze, that sliver of a thought stung.

Edward nodded, but his lip remained firmly curled downwards.

Their seats were adjacent to each other, the spacing in first class not requiring any physical interaction. Edward only asked her the most pragmatic of questions, and she asked him none.

By the time they landed in Chicago, her legs had begun to ache, adding their vague complaints to the louder ones in her groin. Things throbbed. And while she might have been able to ignore the more focused pain inside, the growing restlessness in her limbs completely fractured her ability to focus on the second flight.

She tried not to twitch or thrash in her seat, but she eventually gave up, standing in the semi-dark airplane and beginning to pace, finally moving to the front by the lavatory where there was a tiny bit of space in which to stretch. She caught several passengers glancing at her and then the flight attendants, too. Looking down at herself, she wondered if she'd spilled something on her clothes. No. She shook her arms, trying to get rid of the itchiness the restlessness seemed to bring on.

"You don't want to try to sleep?" the flight attendant asked when Bella requested coffee.

"No," Bella said curtly, taking her coffee from the woman and sipping at it. The warmth felt good, but the aches and restlessness continued to spread.

They were two hours from Seattle when her eyes began to water. Her stomach churned with anxiety. The lightheadedness kept her bound to her seat.

When he wasn't pretending to sleep, she knew Edward was eyeing her. It must be uncomfortable, she thought, having her so close.

She closed her eyes, breathing in and out, trying to focus on the air, but her nostrils hurt and she gave up, opening her eyes. A flight attendant was partially leaning over Bella, intent on conversation with Edward in the window seat. Her suit-clad body arched towards him, practically shoving her chest in his face. She was almost purring out her words. "Of course, sir. I'll make sure it's taken care of."

_Ugh._

Snapping her eyelids shut, Bella folded her arms and angled away towards the aisle, pushing her knees into her midsection. She didn't need to see _that_ performance.

Her entire body was now a wave of aches and pains, one ending as another began, arms and legs pounding and then prickling with itchy heat. Her clothes were damp with sweat, and her intestines were beginning to burble threateningly.

By the time the plane landed, Bella's hands had begun to tremble constantly. Her vision refused to stay still, spinning and twirling at will, the light from the windows making her wince each time someone lifted a shade.

"Here," Edward said. He handed her a pair of sunglasses.

"Thank you," she mumbled. She felt so miserable, she barely cared who she was with.

As the other passengers began packing up their things, Bella tried to reach for her purse, but Edward already had it in his hand. "I'll get it. Just wait. They're bringing a wheelchair."

Was her physical misery so obvious? She supposed so, nodding at him, stomach tightening with guilt. How he must want to be free of her, and yet she knew he was noble enough not to leave her when she was so vulnerable. She rather wished he would be less so.

Wrapping her jacket around herself, she leaned over, trying to put pressure on her unhappy midsection.

They'd cleared customs in Chicago, so all they had to do was pick up their bags, but Edward bypassed the luggage carousel.

"Our bags?" she asked, regretting it almost immediately. Her own voice sounded too loud in her ears.

"Someone can get them later. I need to get you to Carlisle." He spoke softly and moved quickly, and she kept her eyes shut, hoping it would lessen the pounding in her head.

As he slowed to a stop, Bella heard Edward say, "Don't touch her."

She cracked her eyes open a slit, and they were all there. All of them except Alice and Jasper.

With a fresh jolt, she realized just how much they all must loathe her. She closed her eyes again. It was cowardly, but she wanted to run away from this ugly confrontation. Doing so would have the virtue of sparing the Cullens the discomfort of being polite to her. She'd cost them Alice and Jasper, bringing a traumatized Edward in their place.

Pushing herself up on the handles of the wheelchair, the dizziness struck afresh, and she decided it would be better to remain seated. In the act of lowering herself, her arms gave out, and her body toppled forward, where she was caught by a very cold pair of arms.

She could barely summon the energy to flinch away from the temperature she'd so come to despise.

"Bella, please stay put," Edward said.

She made the tiniest of nods, even this making her brain bounce painfully against her skull.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Carlisle's voice was low and soft.

Edward answered for her. "She's been febrile for the last six hours. The shaking only started in the last three."

Abruptly, Bella's eyelids seemed to have acquired their own will, opening and closing as they pleased. Blink, blackness. Open, mouths moving. Blink, darkness. Open, Cullens staring.

Then she vomited. Her eyes were open for that. Each of the Cullens seemed to have stepped nimbly aside, missing the stream that projected itself from her mouth.

She was so miserable, she didn't even care, and when Edward picked her up, her body refused to cooperate with her instruction to get away from this source of danger.

The blinks became longer, darker and more painful.

She was aware of voices and phrases. " . . . tipping point . . ." was one, and " . . . keep her warm," was another.

It was the hot water that brought her back for more than seconds. Where were they?

A tub. She was in a tub. They—she, Esme, Rose—were in a bathroom.

And she was naked. Her entire body tensed, preparing to fight.

"What's happening?" she croaked. _What were they doing?_

"Just try to relax your muscles, okay?" Esme said. "We're cleaning you up and keeping you warm right now. Carlisle's getting some medicine for you."

Bella wondered at the source of the loud clacking, but then connected the sound to her aching mouth. As for relaxing, there was no choice. Her initial struggle had melted into limp weakness. She could barely move.

The tap squeaked as Esme turned it, more hot water running over Bella's feet.

Why they hadn't dumped her at a hospital, Bella could not fathom, but as she looked down towards the tap, she was distracted by the florid bruises that flowered over her body. If they didn't hurt so much, she half-thought they looked rather artistic.

Rosalie and Esme gave her the modesty of averted glances, but when they did bring their eyes to Bella's body, their mouths turned downward.

The rap on the door was soft. "We're ready." Edward's voice.

"We're going to get you dressed, Bella," Esme said. "But I'm going to have to pick you up first, okay?"

And though her touch was cold, Bella was warm enough from the bath to tolerate it. She didn't think Esme would hurt her, and this insulated her against the shivers that wanted to ripple over her at the frigid sensation. There was gentleness in Esme's fingers, and in the midst of all the pain Bella's body was producing, she let out a single sob.

"It's okay," Esme said, wrapping her in a towel, and then another one. "You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

She nodded. She would believe those words. For now.

She still couldn't place where they were. Rose pulled clothes onto her jellied limbs, Esme carrying her to a bed and piling covers on top of her. The shivering seemed to have stopped, but her head still felt like it was going to explode. She closed her eyes, but the ache in her head and body only seemed to intensify with the irregular beat of her heart.

"Quickly!" Edward said.

There were more cold hands on her arm, this time with the sting of a needle. "I'm going to put in an IV to manage your pain and dehydration." Carlisle's voice was smooth and low.

She wanted to nod, but was afraid of how much it would hurt. But why _were_ they helping her? Surely they could have left her at a hospital?

Everyone seemed to have lowered their voices, and as she struggled to grasp at their motive for caring about her, she found that she was in too much pain to care.

"How long?" Edward asked.

"I don't know," Carlisle said.

Someone growled.

"I told you what I saw, Edward." Carlisle was calm, his voice tinged with something meant to be soothing. "I'm sorry. I have no idea."

Emmett's voice was slightly louder than all the rest, and Esme tried to shush him as soon as he began to speak. "Why don't you just give her some and figure the rest out later, before it gets bad again?"

_Give me what?_

Edward huffed out a frustrated breath.

After an uncertain period of time, whatever Carlisle had administered began to work.

"What'd you give me?"

"Saline and morphine," Carlisle said, coming closer and sniffing, "which you seem to be reacting well to."

She sure was. Sort of. The pain remained, but her consciousness was skipping over it, touching down occasionally but able to lift off again. Up, down and touch. Up, down and touch. Repeat—

". . . put it in a cup and she can drink it," Emmett said, as if it were obvious.

"It doesn't work that way," Edward said, sounding exasperated.

"Drink what?" Bella asked.

The Cullens stared at her and then awkwardly at each other. They knew something she didn't, and it was apparent they were only just realizing that.

"You didn't tell her?" Carlisle asked.

Edward shook his head.

"Why am I sick?" she asked.

Edward was the only one moving, taking a step away and pacing back, hands restless as he pinched the bridge of his nose and then made angry fists. "You're not sick, Bella. You're going through withdrawal."

"From . . . what?"

She watched Carlisle and Edward exchange a long and meaningful look.

"Venom," Edward said.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	26. Soft Tissues

A/N for 2020-08-15: Big thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 over on fanfiction.net for beta-ing and pre-reading, respectively. As well, thank you to you fine readers for leaving your thoughts on what the heck is going on with the story.

\- Erin

* * *

After Esme helped clean Bella up from the vomit and then the diarrhea that seemed to have stolen the very last vestiges of her dignity, Bella didn’t feel well, but she did feel like her mind was marginally more in charge of her body than her digestive track had been.

“I’m addicted to vampire venom,” she said.

“I think so, yes,” Carlisle said.

“But you’re not sure.”

Edward eyed Carlisle darkly.

“I’ve only ever seen it once before when I was in Volterra,” Carlisle admitted.

“What happened to the person?”

Carlisle sighed. “The man died during withdrawal.”

Bella considered several things in the moment between Carlisle’s words and her own: one, that medicine had evolved a great deal since then and it might have some benefit for her; two, the Cullens might be helping her now, but it was no guarantee that they would continue to do so, and three, once the morphine wore off, she wasn’t sure dying was such a bad idea after all.

“I see.” She carefully avoided looking at any of them. 

“We’ll find a way to get you through this,” Edward said.

“You don’t have to,” Bella said. “You’ve done your part and gotten me home. Thank you. You don’t have to stay. I’m sure there’ll be a doctor who’ll help me.”

When she looked up, she saw that Carlisle was staring at her as was Edward.

“You think we’re going to leave you.” Bella couldn’t quite put her finger on the way Carlisle spoke. There was something more than surprise there.

“You did before.” Bella wasn’t trying to be unkind. It was simply the truth.

Carlisle stepped closer to her, turning towards the rest of the family. “Give us a moment, please?”

Bella watched all of them trail out except Edward, who stood several steps away, a grim expression on his face accompanied by folded arms. Carlisle looked at his son and then back at Bella.

“You risked your life to first save and then bring us back our son and brother. You are so much”—and here he looked at Edward—“more to  _ us _ than we are adequately able to express. We owe you a great deal, and you have suffered considerably because of our choices. There is no way we would leave you, Bella. We owe you a debt we will never be able to repay.”

Her brain practically spasmed under the weight of guilt, taking in Carlisle’s words. They thought they owed  _ her _ ? After the bargain she’d made?

“You—no, I—” But the pain in her midsection didn’t let her finish, and she hunched over, attempting to muffle the scream that was trying to escape her throat. Hot coals made a slow dance through her gut.

Too many hands were trying to get her to lie back down again, gently but insistently pulling and stretching her body out. Another very unwelcome memory of what such hands could do replaced the current experience, and her scream morphed into a panicked and continuous “No!”

When her thrashing ended, she bubbled up to consciousness, the click of the IV dial preceding snatches of Carlisle’s words. “. . . can’t give her more . . . only feasible option . . . “

There were other words, but she didn’t grasp them. An unmeasured portion of time had passed when the syllables were sensible again.

“Bella?” Carlisle asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

“We need to give you a dose of venom to stop the withdrawal.”

“Then do it,” Bella gasped, flinching as another wave of pain rippled out from her midsection. “Spit in a cup, whatever. I’ll drink it.” Emmett’s comment made a lot more sense now.

“What you need doesn’t come from the liquid,” Carlisle said, almost sighing. “It comes from the glands in our tongues.”

“Okay,” Bella said, riding out what felt like a knife cutting through her midsection, hands shaking over her hips and lower abdomen. She could feel the morphine muddying her thoughts, but its helpful effects weren’t strong enough to keep all the pain away. 

“Someone will need to lick you, Bella,” Edward said, “repeatedly, for several minutes, which, for most of us, activates our hunting instincts.”

_ Oh. _

Demetri licking her every time he kissed her. Then, Demetri’s lips, pressed to her neck, sucking and licking—his growling—

She shuddered and then didn’t have time to regret the movement because her screaming from the next round of pain was so loud. 

In the fog of her pain, she could only catch snippets of Rose’s voice. “. . . cruel . . . so unfair . . . trauma . . . doesn’t deserve that . . .”

She was too much gone to consider how immensely Rose must hate the imposition she was making on their family. Her clothes were again soiled with vomit and sweat. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they were soiled with other bodily byproducts, too. Her eyes had begun watering again, or perhaps she was crying. She wasn’t sure.

But Esme and Rose were helping her change again, this time dressing her in a light jersey camisole and shorts. The pain came in waves, running up and then over her and then receding again. As they clothed her, Rose and Esme tried to time their movements with these recessions, stopping when Bella began to shudder.

The bed was again clean when she was returned to it, and Carlisle inserted a new IV into her arm, the bag suspended from a hook someone had screwed into the wall. Bits of drywall dust clung to the hook end, and Bella wondered absentmindedly if the hotel would mind the damage. Was this a hotel?

“Where are we?” she mumbled to Esme, who was unwrapping a heated blanket from a package and plugging it in, laying it over top of Bella.

“We’re at our house in Seattle.”

Seattle. It was all so hard to keep track of. She really was back home. The airplane ride hadn’t been a dream.

Esme smiled at Bella, standing up. “You’re going to be okay, Bella.” She reached to squeeze her hand, but Bella retracted it quickly. 

Edward reappeared, clad in a fresh pair of sweatpants and a thick long-sleeved jersey top. She wondered if she’d thrown up on him. Possibly. 

Carlisle quietly checked her vitals, frowning as he did so.

“I know,” Edward said softly.

“This needs to be done quickly, Bella. Either of us will have enough control—”

“No, I will,” Edward said to Carlisle with a finality and bite to his tone that made Bella tense. His voice softened with his next words. “You’ll be safe with me.”

The words were not reassuring. She remembered the last vampire who had spoken them to her.

He walked around the bed to the other side, swinging himself up onto the bed on one hand, lying down beside her so that his body and hers were only inches of fabric and air apart.

Bella’s heart had grown rotors, these poised for an unsteady flight. She was in a room in a bed with two men who could easily kill her . . . or harm her in other ways.

“Do you want Esme or Rose to stay with you?” Carlisle asked.

Edward answered with a firm, “No. It’s too much of a risk.”

Carlisle eyed Edward and then Esme, who looked apologetically at Bella as she shook her head. Carlisle turned back to Bella. “Is there anything you need for this to be easier or more comfortable?”

A collage of images and feelings flooded her mind. Edward’s obvious revulsion for her in the throne room, her guilt at the bargain she’d made and what it had cost him, and then, Demetri, looming over her. “No,” she said quickly, staring at the bedding.

“All right,” Carlisle said, nodding to her and Edward. He slipped quietly from the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

And then she and Edward Cullen were alone, in a bed. She closed her eyes at that thought, thinking of something else—anything else.

“Bella?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“We should start.”

She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. “Okay.”

“I’m going to start at your neck because that’s where the lymph nodes are. Then I’m going to move down your arms and then to your legs.”

“Why so . . . much?” she asked, trying to wrestle away the ugly imagery at play in her mind. 

“I could do less, but I don’t think you’d appreciate where I’d have to place the venom.”

Either because she was feeling particularly stupid from the morphine or because of her own idiotic curiosity, she asked, “Why?”

“The soft tissues absorb our secretions much more effectively.”

Soft tissues. “The . . .?”

“Mouth, genitals, and breasts.”

Oh.

“Your skin will absorb it, but it will take longer, and because your body is in shock, it needs a larger dose to calm it right now. Later, we can move to a much smaller regular dose and stretch the time out between them until your body is ready to be weaned.”

Regular dose? Her stomach sank. He must loathe her. And he would need to do this regularly. She marvelled at his sense of obligation and morality. Yes, he must resent her for this, for so many other things.

“Okay,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut again. When his fingers touched her shoulders, she flinched, anticipating his revulsion and feeling her own, well-earned fear.

“Can I help you sit up?” he asked.

And yet, he was nothing but polite. She might even call it kindness if she didn’t know what lay beneath it.

She nodded, tensing as his hands settled on her hips, her muscles and limbs alternating between uselessly rubbery or piano-wire taut.

He leaned her back against his chest, wrapping the electric blanket around her so she was partially insulated from his chill. The sensation made her recall ice cream and coffee and then Silvio’s laugh. Her mind took her back to the Italian spring and those few magical sunny afternoons when she knew herself safe from the touch of any vampire in Volterra.

But it wasn’t sunny, and it was a vampire’s arms she was in again for the second time in as many days—or was it more? She couldn't remember. Her body knew better than to trust the place it found itself in, and soon it had convinced her mind to go along and panic with it.

“Can you try to slow your breathing?” Edward asked.

His fingers ghosted over her arm, a gentle touch.

He was helping her, she reminded herself, even after she’d thrown him to the Volturi. 

But it was Demetri’s touch she was remembering, along with all his whispered promises that she would be safe.

She flinched as Edward moved again, grimacing at this unwanted show of nerves. He paused for so long that she opened her eyes again and spoke, trying to reassure him. “I’m okay,” she lied. She didn’t want to say or do anything that would make him feel compelled to offer her unmeant comfort. 

Edward’s hand brushed away her hair but didn’t touch her skin, and she shivered at the imagined contact. He braced her hip with a hand over her clothes, and brought his lips to her clavicle. His hair tickled her chin, and where she’d willingly touched it before, now she could only think of how Demetri’s hair had done that same thing as his teeth had lingered at her neck. The sob that broke from her mouth was a refugee of her equally broken trust for all vampires.

With his hand bracing her still, Edward backed away, giving her space. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t even know what to say in response to this, so she shook her head, trying to negate whatever kind of responsibility he felt for what she was experiencing. Though her hand felt like lead as she lifted it, she moved her hair aside so that he didn’t have to. 

He moved very slowly back into place. Where his hands made contact, she tried to ignore the confusing signals her body sent in response to his very particular touch. She had felt the spark amidst other things the first time, and now the electric current travelled through her again.

_ Don’t be stupid, _ she told herself. It was more than foolish to nurture any kind of feeling like that for him.

Edward’s tongue traced the line up from her clavicle to the bones of her shoulder and then back down again, circling smaller and smaller until he had covered the entire triangle of space. He was just starting on the other side when the tingling on her left turned into a molten warmth that sank into her chest and turned into a glowing orange ball of . . . bliss. There was no other word for it. She held back a gasp at the sensation but just. The warmth spread itself outward in tantalizingly small increments, fighting against the pain that wanted to hold on to the aches in her muscles. Edward shifted to the back of her neck, turning her body. The movement made her hips twist, waking up the angry wounds inside.

She hissed in a breath, trying not to link Edward to the events that had been the source of the pain.

“What’s wrong?” Edward asked.

Part of her knew that he would know. She knew that he could hear thoughts for miles. He would know what Demetri had done, and even if his gift hadn’t told him, his ears would have. Still, she had pretended that no one knew. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. Her own feelings were more than enough to manage.

At the moment though, feeling half-naked in the arms of the man she still hopelessly and pitifully loved, she wanted to forget that he had told Demetri all her secrets and that he had betrayed her.

She found she couldn’t.

Just as she couldn’t forget what she’d done to him.

“Things hurt,” she said. It was true enough.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful,” he said.

He kept working on the back of her neck, and the ball of bliss grew, spreading outwards.

At first, Bella couldn’t understand why she was straining against it, but then it reached her navel, and her more conscious defenses began activating themselves against any sensation travelling further southwards.

“I think you should stop now,” Bella said, suddenly frightened that he wouldn’t. She was slumped back against him, her body a loose assembly of jellied appendages, none of them obeying any of her commands. “Please, stop,” she repeated, more nervously, the words slurred but unquestionably panicked.

Edward didn’t say anything but gently lifted her off of him, carefully laying her back in the bed, the warm blanket loose over top of her. 

“We can start again when you’re ready.”

She nodded, closing her eyes. The trembling in her body didn’t seem to have anything to do with the withdrawal.

Edward’s voice was soft. “I’m not going to hurt you, Bella. I am completely in control.” 

But he didn’t need to be out of control to hurt her. And because her body was beyond bearing what had been thrust upon it, the truth wriggled out of her heart and out of her mouth. “You were in control before but you still left me.” With those words, she promptly passed out.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	27. Hurricane

"You should hunt," Carlisle said. He stood next to Edward at Bella's bedside, his mind taking in all that his senses had to offer about her state. Her heartbeat had returned to its regular rate. Her breathing was even, and as far as he could tell, she was peacefully asleep. He'd lessened the morphine dosage, adding a new bag of saline. She would be fine for a few hours. It was an opportune time for the two of them to leave.

"I'm fine," Edward told Carlisle.

Carlisle studied him, reflecting what he saw through his thoughts. Edward's eyes were fully black, these offset by the telling purpling beneath them. Carlisle recalled how uncomfortable he'd felt seeing Edward near so many humans in the airport, let alone in a closed room with Bella. He'd feared for her safety, given the state Edward was in. He marvelled even now that he hadn't needed to step in.

"I'm fine," Edward repeated. He was. He could not hurt Bella if he wanted to. His body would revolt at the notion, not that it would be one he could even consider. Not that her words only a few moments ago hadn't reminded him of how much he had already hurt her emotionally.

"Given the very high cost of yours and Bella's lives, I would like to think that you would take every precaution in preserving them." Carlisle spoke the words so softly but with such reproach, he might as well have punched Edward in the gut.

His father's bereaved thoughts revealed how dissevered Carlisle felt his family had been.

Edward had been so focused on Bella, he hadn't even given mind to this. "I'm sorry," he said. "I—"

"You're not thinking clearly because you haven't fed well in months. I know." Again, so gentle, so reasonable.

Alice had seen him in Volterra, then. Carlisle was imagining what she'd described to him and the others.

"Let's go, then," Edward mumbled. He wanted to distract Carlisle from remembering what else Alice had seen. He did not need imagined versions to augment the reality he'd witnessed both first-hand and through the eyes of the other Volturi. He did not want to witness his own shame.

"I'll come with you," Emmett called from downstairs. He was looking forward to spending time with his prodigal brother, Edward realized with a pang. He'd barely spoken with his family with all that was going on with Bella.

The rain was a noncommittal pattering that splattered the canopy trees' leaves and needles unevenly as they ran, obscuring many of the sounds for which Edward, Carlisle, and Emmett listened. Edward did not care. He wanted to hunt as quickly as possible and then return to Bella.

When the first animal scent met his nose, Edward veered in its direction, the surprised and fat raccoon only having time to start curling its lips into a snarl before he'd drained it to limpness. He threw the carcass into a bush and then turned to stare at Emmett, whose shocked thoughts felt loud for the relative quietness around them.

He could see in Carlisle's face and thoughts that he was surprised, too. Both he and Emmett were holding their breath and trying to swallow back venom, their thinking scrambled with the smells of nearby humans and Edward's hunt.

"I'm so sorry." He hadn't even thought of how this would affect them. He was so used to hunting in proximity to humans and to hunting alone that the discipline required to do so was almost second-nature now.

Carlisle nodded, gesturing toward the west with his hand. They'd all be safe to hunt just a few minutes away. As his brother and father darted in the direction Carlisle had pointed, Edward held back slightly, letting them set the pace for him to follow.

It was his habit now to quarantine certain thoughts, several specific topics and ideas tightly boxed away from his conscious mind. He preoccupied his mental prowess with examining Carlisle's gait, watching the flex in the soles of his shoes, calculating the force in his calf muscles, gauging the impact of each footfall. For a brief moment though, his discipline failed, and the image of Bella sleeping flickered in his inner sight. He shook it away and then swallowed, realizing he didn't have to curtail such thoughts anymore. In Volterra, with Aro privy to his every thought, he'd striven to excise any instance of Bella from his head. And when he'd failed . . . well, she'd been punished for that, along with his other misdeeds, too.

How she must loathe and feel betrayed by him. At every point when their paths had crossed in Volterra, he had been forced to walk the tightest of lines to protect her. Her features had been so easily read in those circumstances: hurt and betrayal had made the blood both flood and abandon her cheeks in patterns too familiar to him.

Even now that he had been able to take her from that torture chamber—that death trap—she was still putting on a brave face for everyone. He'd always known she was brave, and now he knew it even more, but it was a knowledge acquired by means so bitter, it was all he could do to keep himself from destroying something every time he thought about it. No one that had been put through so much should have to be so brave.

They were farther into the woods now, the humid air thick with the smells of various warm-blooded animals. He should be thirsty, he knew. His baser instincts _should_ be excited in some regard, but they weren't. The most substantial meal he'd had in the last few months was tainted still by the terror and bitterness of having had to drink it in Bella's presence.

In the distance, Emmett took down a moderately sized mule deer.

Edward stopped running, pausing to turn his head away from the smell. His innards nearly rejected what he had just consumed, and he ceased breathing, trying to recall a neutral and inoffensive odour.

_Edward?_

Carlisle meant well, he could see, but in this moment, he only wanted to be left alone.

"You still need to hunt."

Edward shook his head. He didn't have enough air to speak. Rubbing his hand over his face, he tried to smooth his wrinkled features. How could he explain the experience, even to Carlisle?

His father's hand was gentle on his shoulder. "Edward?"

Emmett's thoughts of his meal were alone enough to loosen Edward's tenuous control. His lungs didn't need air, but they insisted on snatching it into themselves, giant, shuddering breaths that made his torso shake as he held onto the fir tree in front of him. The smell of the deer's demise thrust him back into the throne room, only the scent in his memory was so much sweeter. His frame continued to shake. He didn't know how he'd managed to walk so calmly towards Bella to bandage her hand. One wrong word, one wrong movement—Aro had been so clear. So, so clear. And then, to have to bring himself to his basest level and feed—"I could have killed her." He sucked in another breath, his body straining as if this air would relieve his turmoil.

Carlisle spoke quietly, his reassuring hand still on Edward's shoulder. "But you didn't."

They stayed this way for a few minutes—maybe more—time warping the tornado of memories swirling in his brain. These recollections were projectiles, careening into his consciousness with increasing force as the cyclone tore through his mind.

Bella loathed his kind. He'd seen the way she'd looked at him in Volterra after he'd fed, after he'd been the brutal hand of Aro's justice, after he'd touched her in her room when he'd first told her they could leave. Any hope he'd had about her feelings for him had been extinguished the minute he touched her hours ago. Her revulsion was complete. Aro could not have produced more effective circumstances to degrade the bond between Bella and himself. It was cold comfort to know that the same circumstances had damned Demetri's "experiment" from the start.

"You need to hunt," Carlisle finally said, firmly this time. "Let's go."

Emmett had gone farther ahead to seek more prey, and it rattled Edward that he hadn't even noticed. The hurricane of feelings within him did not abate.

"Feeding well will only make things better." The gentle grip became a strong and directional squeeze, pulling Edward from the security of the tree.

Edward nodded woodenly, taking equally wooden steps to where Carlisle suggested. He yanked his mind from the flurry of the maelstrom inside, forcing himself to be an observer rather than a participant in its destruction. He was good at that, being detached. He imagined that Bella was now, too, all things considered. Numbly, he recalled the methodical manner in which she'd attempted to commit suicide in his presence.

The thought almost made him bolt back to her, but he stopped himself, the observer in him understanding her circumstances had changed. She was safe for now, and Rose and Esme would never let anything like that happen. They'd promised to watch her until he returned.

When Carlisle spied a coyote downwind of them, he lifted his chin in its direction, silently encouraging Edward to take it.

Like an automaton, Edward crouched, leaping towards the creature and neatly puncturing its throat. The violent memories threatened, but he only allowed the edges to brush by him, noting rather than feeling them.

 _Trauma_ , some part of him mused, drawing comparisons between himself and the humans he'd witnessed experience it. He knew his vampire mind had a far greater capacity to process and recover from traumatic events. Though his memories were permanent, they would not cripple his functioning as they would a human. No. He rather wished they would, though. At least there would be malleability in that. The rigid structures of his vampire being would perfectly preserve his recollections, and their sharp edges would forever prick at him no matter how rarely or frequently he summoned them.

After quickly burying the carcass, Edward stood and returned to Carlisle, struggling to summon the words needed to confess more of his many failings in these last months.

As the edges of his memories tightened their stormy circle, he looked up from the eye of this personal hurricane, mentally reaching out and plucking the next remembrance from the melee. Though he did not feel so, his voice sounded calmer, and his body no longer shook. "When I wouldn't carry out a sentence and kill someone, Aro sent Demetri away to trigger her withdrawal."

Carlisle's eyebrows furrowed, but he said nothing, only nodding that Edward should go on.

"Demetri knew what it would do. He'd seen it before, when—"

"When I was there, of course." There was a spasm of guilt in Carlisle's mind. His father had not thought much about that one case after the man had died.

Edward sucked in a breath through his nose. There were fractured feelings flying about him now, pieces lodging in his head, his gut, in his arms that ached to crush things—crush Demetri.

"Aro could hear everything."

"Yes. You had no secrets or thoughts that were your own."

Edward had known that Carlisle would understand, but to have him understand so precisely, even though Edward had heard it in his father's thoughts before, was the difference between imagining a thing and holding it. The strange calmness that had come over him was rapidly slipping away, his next words preceded by the stuttering convulsion of his chest. "I couldn't even—he would have _killed_ her. Aro threatened to have Demetri change her. I knew it wouldn't work, I knew—I stopped. I chose to stop fighting them rather than try to stop him—"

Carlisle's hands cradled Edward's face. "You lost all your power the minute you walked into that place, Edward. You knew that then. You just never ever expected to have Bella be there, too, and every protective desire in you as her mate would have fought against believing you could do nothing. But there really was nothing you could have done."

"I tried to reason with him—"

"Aro does not reason with people, Edward, certainly not talented ones he wants to keep or whose mates he wants to keep." A silent list of vampire figures proceeded through Carlisle's mind, some of these familiar, some not.

He knew it was true, and Carlisle was right, but he wanted to fight against every part of it being accurate. He was meant to protect Bella. It was beyond duty for him—

"You could not even think about her without Aro's punishing you or her for it. Am I correct?"

Yes, Alice had told him.

"Not unless he wanted . . . information Demetri could use," Edward said.

Edward clenched his hands into fists at his sides, then released them as Carlisle wrapped his arms around him. His own arms mirrored Carlisle's embrace. "After I abandoned Bella in Forks, she thought I'd done it again in Volterra. She must _hate_ me now." It was wretched pettiness to be so self-absorbed with his own feelings but in this moment he could not deny himself the comfort his father was offering him. Bella had been horrifically abused by Demetri and Aro, but God help him, he loved her.

Carlisle sighed, his embrace as fierce as Edward's. _You think too poorly of yourself. And worse, you think the same of Bella._

Edward pulled back, staring at Carlisle. _What?_

 _I meant it_ , Carlisle thought. There was a sternness to his features.

Edward dropped his gaze to the ground.

_Her feelings for you are as strong as yours for her._

"You can't know that." Edward shook his head. He'd hoped, in that brief interval in which Jasper and Bella had been in proximity, to at least know what she was feeling via his brother's thoughts. He'd regretted that as soon as Jasper was in sight, though. His brother had winced at the pained emotions rolling off of Bella. There had been nothing else. Her actions since had only confirmed her loathing for him.

 _Will you make Alice and Jasper's sacrifice for nothing?_ Carlisle's eyes widened slightly, his thoughts quiet and desperate. _He wouldn't give up on her, would he?_

Edward snapped his gaze back to his father's eyes. "Of course not." How well Carlisle knew him to appeal to his sense of honour, Edward realized, even as he bristled at the suggestion that he might devalue his siblings' sacrifice.

Carlisle let out a breath. "She loves you, Edward. I'm certain of it. She's been profoundly hurt, as have you, but believe me, she loves you."

Carlisle couldn't possibly know this. There was no way.

But he himself could find out.

"And she needs you."

How he wanted this to be true. And he would not, could not abandon her again, even if she screamed at him to leave. Not until he was sure it was what she wanted. Not until he knew she was safe.

Emmett's body barrelled through the underbrush, his joyous and triumphant post-hunting thoughts preceding his bodily presence. "Ready to head back?"

Carlisle arched an eyebrow at Edward. _Are we?_

God, no. He wasn't ready to face any of this at all. Still, if the woman he loved could show such a brave face to the world, so could he. "Of course. Let's go."

* * *

A/N for 2020-08-17: Many thanks to Chayasara for editing this chapter more than once, and many thanks to Eeyorefan12 for asking all the right questions (amongst many other things!).

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	28. Tender Places

As Bella's eyes blinked open, it was to a room flooded with sunshine and a very transformed Edward sitting directly in front of her reading a book. It was thick and softbound, and she couldn't catch the title before he flipped it closed and set it on top of a stack of others similar in quality, already resting on the bedside table. Everything glowed, Edward included. It was dream-like, and she felt so temporarily peaceful that she determined it likely was a dream. Edward's eyes were a bright amber, the space beneath them devoid of the shadows that she'd become so accustomed to seeing there.

Recent history felt very, very fuzzy, something to do with licking, and very painful experiences also seemed to suggest that she was in a dream-like state.

"What're you reading?"

"Medical journals," Edward said.

It sounded boring and unintentionally pretentious. She smiled. This was very Edward. She liked it when she got to dream of this Edward. "Why?"

"I'm trying to find answers," Edward said, "but it's guesswork, mostly. Your withdrawal symptoms seem to match that of an opioid addiction."

The unhappy direction and specificity of his answer were beyond the lucidity of any dream, even her most realistic ones, and she knew she was awake. It wasn't a happy realization. Still, she didn't move. This was the closest thing to an ordinary conversation she'd had with him in . . . nine months? Nine months. She selfishly wanted it to last.

But the guilt that hovered so close to the surface was already sliding an oily tentacle up her back and throat. What business did she have, pretending she hadn't wronged him?

"Like a heroin addiction?" she asked, swallowing.

"Something like that," Edward said. His hands had found each other, fingers tangling together. He stared at these pale digits.

He was uncomfortable—of course. He should be. Being around her must remind him of what he'd endured.

Bella glanced at the stack of books. Not all of them were medical journals. Several were books on trauma. She supposed he would need those for himself and not sure of what else to say, found herself looking down, too.

It was Edward who broke the silence. "How're you feeling?"

"Um . . ." She was going to say fine, but then she decided to move. Her "Oh!" was full of air, the production of an airway constricted by pain. Everything hurt, everywhere. It was as if she'd worked out every single muscle in her body and then pounded each with a mallet for good measure. These agonies were layered on top of the bruised flesh that still complained when she sat or moved the wrong way.

"It wouldn't be unexpected to feel quite sore."

He went on to tell her something else, but Bella lost track of his words as she tried not to offend any more of her muscles. "Okay," she finally managed.

Her eyes were the only body part that didn't protest being moved, and as her gaze swept around the room, she noted that the IV was gone. Its effects, however, were quite pronounced. She badly needed to pee.

As she pushed herself up into a sitting position, Edward stood, his body tense. "What are you doing?"

"I need to use the bathroom." It was a strain to speak and manage her breathing at the same time.

"One of us can help you."

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I should get up and move." She could feel it. She just wasn't sure how cooperative her body would be in actually walking. Besides, no matter how difficult it was, she didn't want one of them touching her unless it was absolutely necessary.

It was ten stilted lurches to the bathroom door, where she smiled a little at her success. She made the mistake of looking in the mirror, catching sight of Edward's stiff body, taut with some negative emotion. She closed the door quickly, moving inelegantly through a very brief morning routine. Someone had left a change of clothes for her on the counter, but she knew it was far beyond her mobility to attempt putting them on. Getting to the bathroom had exhausted her. Getting back to the bed would be near-miraculous.

However, Edward was gone when she opened the door, Rosalie standing in his place.

"Hi," Rosalie said.

"Uh, hi," Bella answered.

Rosalie had never been friendly before they'd left, and Bella wasn't sure what she was now, even with something like a smile on her face—definitely not the equivalent of a smile, just . . . like one. It was the friendliest expression Bella had ever seen on Rose.

"Can I give you a hand getting downstairs? There's breakfast."

Bella vaguely remembered the stairs she'd been carried up. If she recalled correctly, there were many of them.

"Um—"

"Or I can bring you something here? I can carry you—"

"No," Bella said quickly. "I think I'll stay put for now, thank you. But food would be great." She didn't like this. At all. She wanted to go home, but she doubted there would be any explanation sturdy enough to successfully convince Charlie as to why she'd shown up without warning and needed Edward Cullen to come lick her periodically.

A peal of laughter escaped her mouth.

Rosalie stared.

"Sorry, I—never mind."

"No, it's okay—I get it."

Bella stared right back. "Sure," she said dubiously.

"I do," Rosalie insisted but then frowned towards the door. "Let me go get you breakfast." Then she disappeared.

Bella's walk back to bed was less elegant than her leaving it, but it had the virtue of being unwitnessed.

When the door opened again, it wasn't Rosalie who came bearing a tray but Carlisle.

"Morning," she said carefully, wondering who else would appear in this parade of Cullen family members.

"Good morning," he replied.

She'd been in so much pain yesterday, the finer points of her interactions with or reception by the Cullens were shaky, but she remembered Carlisle's words. Still, it was difficult to reconcile their leaving with their present gratitude. She still didn't fully trust them, but she didn't have the luxury of _not_ trusting them either. Her life was literally in their hands.

"Feeling a bit sore I hear?" he said congenially.

"Yes."

Carlisle smiled gently. "Would you like the short or long explanation as to why?"

But Bella was eyeing the tray. Aside from food and drink, there were two syringes and a variety of pills. What she really wanted was not to be feeling all the things she was feeling. She'd never shied away from dealing with discomfort before, but it was taking so much to keep herself together that managing her head, heart, and body felt like three separate, Herculean tasks.

"Or perhaps some ibuprofen first?" Carlisle asked, glancing at the tray.

"Please," Bella said. She took the pills he offered, careful not to touch his hand.

"One of the symptoms of withdrawal can be muscle spasms, which can go on even while you're sleeping." He tapped one of the two syringes. "This medication may help with some of those withdrawal symptoms."

Bella nodded in understanding. "And the other one?"

"A multi-vitamin shot."

"Why?"

"Addiction is rarely good for the body and tends to lead to malnourishment. I'm not sure if it's the case with you, but I'd like to cover all my bases just to be sure."

"Okay," Bella said.

Holding the alcohol wipe up, Carlisle asked permission with his eyes, and Bella nodded. It felt cold on her arm, his touch even colder.

Carlisle was quick with his injections, and when he was done, she pressed her hand to her bicep, leaning back against the pillow.

Carlisle moved the medical supplies away and then placed the breakfast tray on the bed. "You'll need to eat before you take the rest." He didn't leave, sitting down and picking up one of the journals, flipping to the table of contents.

She didn't believe for a minute that his attention was in any way diverted, but she appreciated the gesture and took a bite of the porridge that was still warm. It was sweet, laced with honey and cinnamon. It tasted like home. There was a cup of something hot beside it, too. She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying all the warmth.

"When can I go home, Carlisle?" she asked, opening her eyes. "Not that I don't appreciate everything you've done, but—"

"You want to go home. Of course you do. And your father will be very glad to see you." He sighed. "I don't know. I don't think you've had enough venom yet for your body to really recover from the shock of withdrawal, but once that happens, it's a matter of seeing how long you can last without having any symptoms."

Bella nodded, thinking this over.

"Have you considered what you'll tell your father?"

"Tell him about . . . this? I'd thought it would be best not to."

Carlisle dipped his head in acknowledgement but not before Bella saw a flicker of a frown cross his face.

"Here," he said, holding out the pills. "You can take these now."

As soon as Bella did, Carlisle stood. "If you need anything, just call. You'll likely feel tired from the medication, and sleep will do nothing but help you."

Carlisle was not wrong, and the room's light was much changed when her eyes blinked open again. Edward had once more taken up residence in the chair by her bed, still reading the same stack of books. He didn't acknowledge her open eyes, keeping his own gaze on the words on the page. Knowing that he would have sensed her wakeful state, she concluded that he didn't want to interact, and she didn't want to force it on him.

When she pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, the wave of dizziness caught her completely off guard, knocking her over and leaving her sliding, halfway to the floor, Edward's stony arm around her back.

She recoiled, and as she did, so did he, frowning and stepping back as soon as she was seated again on the bed.

For all the sleep she'd had, her body was still exhausted and sore, and the revulsion on Edward's face was the last straw for her endurance. She teared up, blinking rapidly, fighting for control of her emotions. Hands at her sides, she clenched them around the bedspread. "You don't have to stay, Edward. I understand you feel obliged, but you don't need to do anything more for me." She wanted to apologize for what her bargain had done to him but worried that if she did, he might then feel bound by propriety to offer words of forgiveness, heartfelt or otherwise. "You owe me nothing, and you have done more than anyone would expect, given the circumstances."

"What circumstances do you imagine those are?" he asked. His brow was furrowed in concentration.

She watched his body bristle with what she assumed was anger, and she had to pause to gather her courage before she could speak what she knew he already understood.

"I betrayed you, Edward. I gave you to the Volturi because I couldn't stand your dying. Then they tortured you."

He stared at her, his mouth opening and then closing before words formed. "That's not—"

"Please don't," she said, closing her eyes briefly. She could not stand to have him attempt to excuse or justify her behaviour. It was taking too much of her self control to cope with everything else. As she opened her eyes again, though, she saw his pinched together in obvious distress. _Great move, Swan,_ she thought. _Just awesome. Way to remind him of all the horrible things he's endured._

She dropped her gaze to the floor, hands still gripping the bedclothes. The tips of her fingers tingled, followed then by her palms, pins and needles spreading upwards. This was alarming enough, which in itself made her heart beat faster, but then her face began to feel warm, droplets of sweat starting to dot her forehead and cheeks. The room began to move like a boat meeting waves, first gently but then lurching out of control, up and down becoming meaningless words as she lost all sense of balance.

"Oh God," Bella muttered, the nausea rising with the vertigo. The waves were turning into their own whirlpool. Her heart began to race.

"Bella?" Edward asked.

She couldn't answer, too focused on not falling over, vomiting, or whatever else her body was trying to do.

"Carlisle!"

Cold touches met her face, arms, back, and legs. There were stings in fresh places, and the dizziness and pounding in her head made it almost impossible to understand the words she was hearing. But she felt Edward's tongue on her neck. Her body shuddered both in horror and relief, but the latter was tiny, the sensation of warmth just a tingle inside her stomach. It wasn't enough. Even in their disordered state, her body and brain agreed. She needed more.

The world moved in fractured panes of sensation, air on her forearm, wetness on her clavicle, and then Edward's breath on her face. His words seemed to lift her.

"Can you understand me, Bella?

She was conscious, but speech was impossible.

"Blink if you understand me, Bella."

Bella blinked in response, her arms trembling and twitching.

"What I'm doing isn't working fast enough. If I place the venom inside your mouth, though, it might. May I?, Blink once for no and twice for yes."

He was asking to make it better. She blinked and then blinked again.

His kiss was immediate. She was a rag doll in his arms, his mouth pressed to hers. It was nothing like what Demetri had done, but it couldn't help but prompt her to recall what had so similarly transpired. So physically distressed and disregulated, she couldn't tell if it was the memory of the rape or the physical change that was altering her so profoundly.

But she was altering. It wasn't a ball of pleasure; it was an atom bomb inside her, the heat exploding to the edges of her flesh. She swore her skin was stretching and morphing with the sensation, lifting and warping over her body. Her mind was full of several loud thoughts: it wasn't Demetri who was touching her, but Edward—the man she loved and wished she could have apologized to before the withdrawal symptoms had robbed her of the opportunity to do so.

Edward pulled away, his eyebrows drawn together in a pronounced frown. "Bella?"

She probably could have spoken but didn't, staring right back at him stupidly, stunned by the relief that was sweeping over her body.

"I think we're in the clear," Carlisle said. He was hanging another IV bag on the hook by the bed.

Bella's eyes barely glanced at him. Edward was her magnet. "What?" she finally mouthed, answering him.

"I think I just heard your thoughts."

* * *

A/N for 2020-08-19: Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 over on FanFiction.net are both incredibly smart cookies. My sincerest thanks to them for putting those impressive smarts to work on this story.

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	29. Cognitive dissonance

“I’ll give you a few minutes, shall I?” Carlisle eyed both Bella and Edward, waiting to receive Bella’s nod before leaving. She’d seen nothing in his expression to indicate that anything out of the ordinary had just occurred. Could she have misheard?

Edward was still staring at her. She was trying to wrap her now drug-addled head around what he’d said.  _ He’d heard her thoughts? _ Her eyes were blinking heavily. She wondered absently if it was his venom or the medication she’d been given that had made her sleepy. 

“Bella, _ do _ you still love me?” he whispered, his tone and expression incredulous.

_ What? _

She stared at him, her exhaustion sucking at her consciousness. 

“Do you?” He looked so anxious.

He should know the truth, she thought, her senses crumbling under the pull of sleep. It was better to give him  _ this _ truth, and let him see how much better it would be if he left her for good. This would free him to do so. 

But while she wanted to tell him the truth, her eyes were so heavy, it was like lifting lead, and after they closed, they didn’t open again for some time. When consciousness gave her enough energy to actually blink her eyes open and see, the room’s windows were dark, the space dimly illuminated by the low light of the bedside lamp. It cast Edward’s face in uncertain shadows. 

He was still there. 

She checked herself this time, making sure it wasn’t a dream. Her body ached in what had become all the regular places: groin, thighs, chest, arms. Sore. Check. She was awake.

Edward hadn’t left. He may have heard her thinking about how she still loved him, and he hadn’t left. Her esteem for his noble instincts rose again, and it made her hurt, thinking of how much he was ruled by his sense of duty. 

God, he’d  _ heard _ her thoughts? How? Of all the times for him to hear her! She made herself look at him. He wasn’t reading this time, instead watching her in a way that made her deeply uncomfortable. It was a kind of intentness that roused wariness—like a predator and its prey. She shivered. He wouldn’t hurt her. 

Right?

Not with all the Cullens nearby. Not  _ if _ they were nearby.

Edward held out a glass of water, which she took, carefully avoiding his touch, and then sipped at it. The IV needle was still in her arm, but her mouth was very, very dry. While she needed to pee, her body was free of the ache that she now understood came from the withdrawal. She swept her feet over the edge of the bed, sitting up without dizziness.

“I heard you,” Edward said. “Your thoughts. I can’t hear them now, but . . . I’d very much like to know if I was correct in what I heard.” His jaw was a tight line.

Now she wasn’t so sure of the wisdom of telling him the truth. She had clearly underestimated his sense of moral obligation. So it was with no small amount of guilt and shame that she spoke her evasive lie: “I’m not sure what you heard or even if it was me.”

Edward stood abruptly, moving to the window and staring outside, his head cocked a tiny bit to the right. The posture was familiar. He looked to Bella as if he were listening for other voices, other conversations.

When he turned around, his features were calmer somehow. “It was your voice, Bella. And you were very clear. Your  _ thoughts _ were clear. You said you loved me and that you wished you’d been able to apologize for . . . something.” 

Bella decided that humiliation was indeed the predominant emotion she was experiencing.

“Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Then she wished for the carpet to swallow her up.

In the long silence that followed, the room was so quiet that all she could hear was the hum of the IV unit beside her. She found herself tensing as she anticipated his ridicule or disgust. When he finally spoke, she was unprepared for what she heard. 

“You owe me nothing. I lied to you,” he said.

The anticipated, “I hate you” or “I loathe you” or “I’m only doing this out of a sense of obligation” didn’t sound like the assertion she had expected. And because she knew she deserved to hear in Edward’s own words his many reasons for wanting to be rid of her, she said, “Pardon?”

“In the woods, the day I left. Everything I said was a lie.” He was looking at her now.

She stared at him, blinking, trying to recall what he could have lied about.

“I said that I didn’t love you, Bella. It wasn’t true. It was  _ never  _ true.”

She shook her head. It was like trying to solve a math problem with someone giving her the answer but not being able to follow the steps to its solution.

_ Was _ she dreaming? She began to doubt her initial assessment. Then she looked at the IV needle in her arm. Oh, good grief, it was the morphine. She exhaled in relief, rubbing her hands over her face, letting out a laugh. “Of course.”

“Of course  _ what _ , Bella?” He moved closer, sitting on the bed but still some distance away. 

“I’m seeing and hearing things. Morphine messes with my head.”

Edward’s eyebrows inched together, and he shook his head. “You’re not on any morphine right now.” He lifted his chin to the wall where a bag clearly labelled, “Saline” hung from the hook. 

Bella stared at the bag. “I’m—“

“Awake and lucid, I assure you. Carlisle will be happy to verify this.”

She couldn’t think of anything else to say to explain what he had just told her. She couldn’t quite accept that what she was experiencing was real either. Didn’t withdrawal sometimes cause delusions? If it was a delusion, she knew she should fight it and struggle to find what was real. And yet, part of her wanted to ask this delusion-induced Edward some very hard questions.

“This can’t be real, but let’s just pretend it is. If you”—she could barely say it—“loved me, then why did you leave?”

“To protect you.” She didn’t miss his little scoff after he said it. Even he understood how ludicrous a statement it was. “It was the worst kind of blasphemy to say what I did.”

She laughed again more loudly, immediately regretting it. The movement made her bruises ache.

“I left to protect you from my kind and from my world.” He stood and paced again, looking profoundly unhappy.

“Well, that plan didn’t work very well,” she said, recalling Laurent and Victoria. And then Volterra. 

“It was working just fine until you arrived in Italy.” Now he was scowling. 

She felt her face flush with anger, too. “What did you expect, for me to let you kill yourself out of guilt?”

In her roused and angry state, she realized that everything was feeling a bit too real and explicit to be a delusion, but accepting that meant she needed to acknowledge what she was hearing from Edward. He’d lied about not loving her? Had he really said that just now? As she questioned the recollection, the words began to percolate through the filter of her consciousness.

“I thought you were dead, Bella. I was told you jumped off a cliff. What in the world were you  _ doing _ ?” His voice had risen with each word. He’d stopped pacing, facing her now, hands clenched briefly in his hair before he dropped them to his sides again.

There was no way she was going to tell him about the hallucinations she’d had after he left or that she’d sought to encourage them. She stabbed at his hypocrisy instead. “What? Only  _ you’re _ allowed to commit suicide?”

“I would hope that neither of us would choose such a fate.” His features hardened as he looked at her. “At least not if the other of us is still alive.”

She thought of her plan and the pills in Volterra and how he’d interrupted her. She supposed that she didn’t really have any high ground upon which to stand concerning suicide.

“And yes, I was foolish not to verify the information beyond a brief phone conversation with a total stranger, but if you were dead now, Bella, I would make the same decision as I did then. I didn’t want to kill myself out of guilt for leaving you, nor would I. I wanted to kill myself because I thought you were dead, and I can’t be in a world where you are not.”

Can’t. That one word snagged in her thoughts. Present tense. Edward was not one to be imprecise with his speech.

“Can’t,” she repeated. “Why not?” She listed for herself all the horrible things he’d endured at the hands of the Volturi because of her. He should have taken the first opportunity to be away from her. 

“Because I love you. I never stopped loving you.”

That equation of things again that refused to reconcile itself made her head hurt. How could he possibly still think he loved her? 

“You can’t,” she said. “You should hate me after what I did.”

He tilted his head. “Why would you think that?”

The shame flared up. She had been so selfish in making that bargain even when he was screaming at her not to. “I couldn’t let you die, and I made a bargain with a monster to keep you alive. But I saw what they did to you. They tortured you.”

Then Edward had lashed out at her for it. That wasn’t love. She thought of what Demetri had done with Edward’s assistance. He couldn’t claim to love her when he had betrayed her. Her gaze dropped to the floor. 

She felt the mattress dip slightly and knew that he had settled again on the end of the bed. His tone was softer. 

“I’ll admit it was torture for me to be there and witness what  _ you _ went through, but that didn’t change what I felt for you. What happened was not your fault. I could never hate you. I love you. I will  _ never _ stop loving you.”

She didn’t dare look at him. It would be too painful. But she needed to correct his delusion, and quickly, before she weakened and fell into it. “People who love each other don’t try to hurt each other, Edward. Maybe you needed to tell yourself that you loved me to get through the last few months, but what you felt wasn’t love. If it was, you wouldn’t have left me or helped Demetri the way you did.” She couldn’t bring herself to list the intimacies he’d shared with Demetri or speak aloud the final brutality to which that information had led. Edward obviously knew that she’d been raped and that she’d wanted to kill herself. She hoped not to have to stab him again with these truths.

“I didn’t—I did not share that information freely.”

She couldn’t help the small snort of disbelief that escaped her. She knew he’d heard it when he stood up again at vampire speed. She recognized the agitation in his movement. 

“How could I choose to share anything about you when I was not permitted to even  _ think  _ of you!” he said fiercely. “I had no thoughts that were mine alone. Aro sees everything with one touch. He takes whatever he wishes. I was told—ordered—not to speak to you, not to think about you. When I tried to see you through the eyes of others, you were punished for even that.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. Could any part of what he was saying be true? Had Demetri lied when he said Edward did not want to see her? She realized that had never occurred to her. It had made more sense to her that Edward would hate her for damning him to service in the Volturi guard.

“I refused to tell Demetri anything at first.” She opened her eyes again and watched Edward pace as he continued speaking, his feet leaving shadows in the carpet. “But then Aro answered him when I didn’t, giving him a hideously twisted version of you, of us, ideas which he wanted to see Demetri use purely for Aro’s own entertainment.”

There was no mistaking the disgust in his tone now. There was also an indisputable ring of truth in his words, and the unresolvable equation began to untangle itself ever so slightly. Yes, there had been some conflict between the things Demetri seemed to think she would enjoy and what Edward would know to be true. Others, though . . .

“He asked about your interests first, what music you liked, what books. I didn’t want to tell him anything. How could I after what he proposed to do? His  _ experiment _ —” He grimaced. “So, I didn’t answer him. Then Aro listed all the books and music I knew would remind you of me. He could see how much it would potentially distress you and that it might give Demetri an opportunity to comfort you. From what I knew of Demetri, I could see that was not the case.” He snorted in derision. “The idea of his offering comfort to anyone is absurd. But I didn’t want you to be miserable there, as much as I could prevent it, so I told him.”

She recalled the books on her shelf in Volterra. No, they had not offended or distressed her.

“He didn’t just ask about books,” she said, voice trembling. She hated to shove these ugly truths at him, but if he loved her—no, he couldn’t, not after what had happened. 

“No, he didn’t.” Edward paused. “I tried to keep my more . . . intimate memories about us from Aro but his power is . . . overwhelming. I attempted to steer Demetri away whenever I could, and when I failed . . .” His voice began to shake. “I’m so sorry, Bella. I tried to stop him. That last day, when he . . . I physically tried, but Aro used Jane and Alec to keep me under control, and then he threatened to let Demetri bite you if I didn’t stop fighting them. I couldn’t let him—not after . . .” He stopped, his face contorting. “I’m so sorry.”

It was like feeling Demetri’s lips at her neck and shoulder again, her hand fingering the mottled bruise.

He didn’t want Demetri to bite her, then? “Why not? I mean, weren’t they planning on that anyway?”

“Because he had no plans to stop what he was doing even after biting you. And if he had bitten you, he was so—I didn’t think he could stop. Aro showed me that Demetri had . . . failed with other human women. I was sure he would kill you,” Edward said.

“That wouldn’t have been so bad either,” she said, wincing as she threw this final knife at his noble delusion. She saw that she had hit her mark by the stricken look on his face. 

She thought of Edward’s refusal to turn her or to even entertain the idea in the past. Even if she accepted what he was telling her about what had happened in Italy, even if what he was saying about when he left was the truth, it could not have been a real, enduring love. No, surely the cognitive dissonance that held together his actions and his ideals was keeping him from acknowledging the truth, even to himself. 

The sob and then tears came of their own volition. It wouldn’t serve him to hear it, but she couldn't hold it in anymore. “I’m so sorry, Edward. I’m so sorry for what they did to you because of me, for how selfish it was of me, for how it’s made you need to say that you love me. But you need to let go of that. You should hate me for making that bargain. I give you permission to hate me. You don’t love me—you don’t owe me that—and you need to move on. Your family can help you, I’m sure. I’ll go as soon as I can, but you shouldn’t have to be near me—”

Her gaze had sunk to the carpet again, but now Edward obstructed her view as he knelt before her, his eyes soft and focused intently on hers. “Bella Swan, I don’t need to convince myself of anything. I am a vampire. I cannot experience delusion or trauma—at least, not the way a human would. The only thing that can change a vampire is meeting their mate, and I have already experienced that. I am looking at her, and I love her. The woman I love saved my life. The only question here is whether she loves me or wants me, because I have not done anything to deserve that love, and have done so much to damage it.”

_ Oh, Edward. _ Her heart ached for him. She would not hurt him further by playing into this fallacy he had created for himself—that she was his mate. Thinking of how he’d reacted to the false news of her death, she knew she still needed to find a way to protect him. “You can’t live your life like this. And when I die, you can’t try to kill yourself.” Surely he could see how illogical his thinking was.

Like a shade drawn, his face slackened, the earnestness gone. “You won’t die, Bella.” He looked away.

She exhaled, exhausted. “I’m human, remember?”

“For now.” His gaze seemed glued somewhere to the carpet.

And because she couldn’t quite let her mind leap from his words to the natural conclusion they suggested, she studied the same patch of carpet, too. 

“For now?” she finally dared ask.

“The Volturi released us, but I was given a choice to either change you there or promise to do so after we returned home. And like you, I made the selfish choice—I want you to be human for as long as you can.”

_ Be calm, be calm, be calm, _ she told herself.  _ Be calm. _

The shaking and the blackness that came next were welcome distractions from Edward’s revelation, and she accepted the void of unconsciousness into which she fell.

* * *

A/N for 2020-08-21: Are you at the this-is-driving-me-crazy stage with this story? If so, you are not alone . . . 

Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 are both amazing betas, and they are a complete and total trip to work with. Many, many thanks to them for putting their wits to work on this story.

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	30. Belief

Edward licked her arm one last time before adjusting his position to move to her leg. For a variety of reasons, they hadn't reached this point of contact yet, and Bella was mindful of the anxious feelings brewing in her gut. Edward's touching her neck and her arms had been intimate, but it had felt . . . safe. His trajectory now did not.

"Not there," she said, making him pause as he knelt.

"Okay," he said softly, waiting for her further direction. She noticed that he looked away briefly, visibly swallowing before turning back to face her.

"My stomach," Bella said, pulling up her camisole. The jersey fabric ruched up easily, staying in place under her bra.

She'd been sitting on the edge of the bed, and Bella realized she'd need to lie down for him to do what he needed to. She did so nervously. Lying down near anyone didn't feel safe, Edward included. It helped to remind herself that he hadn't hurt her and that past behaviour was a good predictor of future behaviour. Physically, he had never been anything but gentle and careful around her.

Edward moved onto the bed, lying perpendicular to her, one arm positioned over her for leverage. He licked in long, slow strokes, distributing the secretions of his tongue over as large an area of skin as possible.

It was a bizarre activity, and there was no escaping this perception, so Bella stayed in the safe place in her head, the part that only observed, gathering data on the tiniest details of the room around her. The ceiling was helpfully textured, whorls of white plaster resembling a teeming pale sea, and she focused her attention there, trying to make a pattern of its unpredictable shapes.

Edward continued with his work.

In the moment that she took to close her eyes and open them again, Edward had changed position, though. His body wholly straddled hers, one knee wedging apart her legs.

But it wasn't Edward anymore. It was Demetri, and he was naked, as was she. "It won't hurt this time, my Bella. I promise."

She woke up from the nightmare, screaming.

It took many breaths and several uncounted moments before she realized she was awake, the other voice in the room assisting in this process.

"You had a bad dream, Bella," Edward said. "You're safe. No one will harm you here."

 _A bad dream. A bad dream._ She kept repeating this until her breathing slowed.

Edward hadn't moved from his habitual seat beside the bed, but his posture was stiff, his muscles taut. She imagined he didn't want to alarm her by moving.

"I'm okay," she said. She was, sort of. Pushing herself up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. No dizziness. It was still dark outside, and Bella found herself hunting for a clock in the room.

"It's just after four a.m.," Edward said softly, "on Tuesday, the thirteenth of June."

"Thank you," she said. It was good to feel grounded by time. Tuesday. The thirteenth of June. Four a.m.. She was alive. He was alive.

And Edward believed that he still loved her. And he'd promised the Volturi he would change her. She didn't know where to begin with either of these earth-shifting revelations.

"Rosalie would like to speak with you," he said, frowning. "It's your choice, if you want to."

Rosalie. Bella recalled Edward's sister's resentment and anger towards her. Because she was human, Bella had been a danger to the Cullens, and clearly she still was. Weren't two members of the family currently serving the Volturi in her place? And wasn't Edward under orders to change her at some point, the end of his own existence the price for failing to do so? She looked at him now. The thought of tackling his professions of love again exhausted her. Rosalie's acidic remarks would at least require less energy on her part.

"Sure," she said.

Edward eyed her warily. "You don't have to."

"It's fine." If anything, it would make her feel less guilty, being berated by a Cullen. She deserved it.

After hobbling through her morning routine in the bathroom, Bella changed into clean clothes, pleased that she could at least accomplish this alone. She brushed her hair and teeth slowly, wanting to look decent before confronting the terribly intimidating beauty of one Rosalie Cullen.

But Rose surprised her with a friendly smile and a quiet, "Morning," when Bella emerged from the bathroom.

"Morning," Bella said. She eyed the bed where a tray of food sat along with an aromatic carafe of coffee.

"He's left the house, just so you know," Rose said.

"Okay." Bella sat down on the bed, looking at the tray.

"Please, eat," Rose said.

Again, this friendly Rosalie was one Bella didn't quite know how to react to. She nibbled on the bacon and then the toast and eggs. It all tasted so good. The coffee was fresh, strong, and hot, its own kind of restorative.

"Thank you for breakfast," she said. She wasn't sure who had made it.

"You're welcome. Esme's been helping me with my cooking skills." Rosalie looked genuinely pleased.

Rosalie had made her breakfast. Wow. Maybe she'd poisoned it? It was an errant thought and not one she gave much credence, but this Rosalie—part of her wondered what had happened to the Rose she'd known.

"Edward really does love you, Bella. He always has."

Bella stared at her.

"I'm sorry. I know I must seem very rude to intrude like this, but we couldn't help but hear you talking. There are no secrets in our family."

It wasn't new information for Bella, but she was still so shocked by Rose's bluntness that she said nothing, wondering what else Edward's sister was here to tell her.

"I know you think he's traumatized by what happened to him, but he isn't. I'll explain more about that later, but let me start with when we left."

Bella looked down at the bedspread, fingering the pattern of vines and flowers. Even with them here presently, it was still difficult to think about when they'd abandoned her.

"After your birthday party, Edward was distraught. And he was so angry with himself. It was awful and tense, and it was worse because Jasper felt awful, too, so we all experienced that. It wasn't a surprise, what Jasper did. It could have been any of us. We knew there was always a chance, but there's a really big difference between entertaining a possibility and actually seeing it occur. We were all horrified by how hurt you were, and we could see Edward struggling again with how easily it could happen. I know he reconsidered his choice about changing you. Even _I_ reconsidered it. But he ultimately decided it was too selfish an act, and I agreed with him."

He'd reconsidered changing her? So that they could be together? And then he'd . . . left. And Rose had agreed with him. She recalled the words he'd spoken to her in the woods all those months before: She was a distraction. He didn't love her.

"Of course," she mumbled.

"I'm not done yet. And, no, you don't understand." This sounded more like the Rose she knew. "I was never given a choice about being changed," Rose said. "And if I had been, I would have said no. I _never_ asked for this, and the only thing I ever wanted in my human life was to have children and be a mother, which will never happen."

Nor would it for Bella. There was both relief and sadness in this. She had never really planned on being a mother, but she understood now more than ever just how young she was and how long eternity could be, given the right or wrong circumstances.

Rose continued. "But my views are different now. I have Emmett, and I have my family. It isn't the same, and it still hurts that I can't have my own children, but I have love, as do you . . . and I know that you have that love, because I see it clearly now. I didn't before." She shook her head a little. "I owe you a much-belated apology. I . . . I was the one who told Edward that you were dead. I thought you were because of Alice's vision. She, of course, went to investigate what I thought was a foregone conclusion. I really thought I was doing Edward a favour, ending his misery." Her lips twitched, forming something between a smile and a frown. "And I thought I was doing him a favour because I didn't think you and he had a mate bond."

Bella listened, rapt. This was not a Rosalie she'd ever known, and she wasn't sure if any sort of movement on her part would make her disappear, so she stayed still, her gaze fixed on Rose's face.

"I couldn't have been more wrong. It's so clear now that you and he are mated, Bella. We nearly lost him because of my mistake. Edward loves you. And this is where I can speak to the truth of this. Vampires can't experience change—or trauma, not like humans. We can carry our human trauma into this life, but that's it. Our minds simply can't change the way a human's can."

She recalled Demetri's speech, so similar, given so many months ago. She did not appreciate the parallels, but she listened nonetheless. Edward's family must fear for him, she decided. After only just getting him back, they would be eager to let him have whatever he wanted even if they knew it was part of some misguided sense of obligation born of guilt. Given that Rose hadn't ever really liked her, it would be easy for her to lie to protect Edward's well-being.

Or it could be her who was being paranoid. "And how would you know this?"

Rose didn't speak right away, looking aside for a moment. "I was dying when Carlisle found me. I'd been raped and beaten by my fiancé and his friends and then left for dead."

Oh. Bella really wished she hadn't asked. "I'm sorry," she said softly, truly aware now of how inadequate such words would be.

Rosalie gave Bella a wan smile. "Me, too, for a variety of reasons. I held onto the memory of the rape rather than let it go. Our memories in this life are permanent, but our human ones are—"

"Fuzzy," Bella said, recalling what she'd been told in Volterra. She avoided thinking about who had told her this.

"Yes, unless we purposely recall them into this life. If I can give you some advice, when you are changed, don't think of anything that you don't want to permanently remember."

It was a glimmer of hope in a very dark future. Though she would be transformed into something she abhorred, she could at least forget what Demetri had done. She closed her eyes. Forgetting seemed so impossible right now. "Okay."

"The only thing that can harm our minds arises through harm to our mates. And when I saw Emmett being mauled by that bear"—she shuddered—"I knew what he was to me immediately, and I carried his bleeding body over a hundred miles to Carlisle because I was so terrified I would kill him if I tried to change him." She shook her head. "I was pretty stupid before, not seeing that it was exactly the same for Edward except that you weren't dying. You were alive, and that was so much more terrifying for him because you are so fragile for simply being a living human being. He wanted a human life for you. Whatever else my brother is, he is noble to a fault . . . and I never disagreed with his choices."

Bella studied Rose's face. She knew the emotions there. She had no cause to doubt Rose's feelings for Emmett and certainly not Edward's sense of nobility, which she was sure was driving him now.

"Edward loves you, Bella. He is not saying it because he feels obliged to or because he needed something to hold onto in Volterra. He is, however, terrified by seeing you unwell. I can't imagine what he went through, having to hear and see what happened to you there. I do hope that all of that will fade for you someday, but he will have . . . all of it in his head forever. So if you love him, and I think you do, then believe him, because your disbelief is torture for him right now."

It could not possibly be true even though she wanted it to be. "He can't—"

"What's the worst thing that could happen if you believed what I'm telling you?"

He could leave again. Reject her again. Break her heart again. She shook her head. The possibilities were so painful now with this tantalizing idea before her of his love being real.

"It's not Edward who is protecting himself, Bella. It's you protecting your own heart. You have every reason to do that, but he really does love you, and he won't leave again. I don't think he's physically capable of it."

Bella let the bedspread's floral design absorb her attention again, tracing a vine to another flower and then to another. "You can't know that."

"Well, besides the fact that he tried to get himself killed rather than live without you, he's promised the Volturi that he'll change you, and if he breaks that promise, we're all dead. And while we're at it, they expect him to supervise you until then." She snorted, whether at the Volturi's requirement or the idea of Edward's doing so, Bella wasn't sure. "He can't leave you unless he wants us to face the Volturi. Given how emotionally tortured my brother already is on other fronts, I doubt he'd want to add our deaths to his conscience, too."

It was mind-boggling, everything Rose was telling her, and she felt exhausted just trying to hold onto it all.

"Do you believe me, Bella?"

She met Rose's gaze. It made sense. It made sense because she was aware that her mind had not allowed her to think clearly during the last brutal months. "I want to."

"That's good enough for me." Rose stood, reaching for the tray. "Are you ready to tell him that?"

_No. Yes. Maybe._

Bella worried her lower lip and nodded before her courage failed.

"Good, I'll call him back." Then she turned and walked away, and Bella stared after her, wondering still who this Rosalie was and where the other one had gone.

* * *

A/N: My two betas, Chayasara and Eeyorefan12, and I are aware that there is a pronoun case error in the text "Or it could be _her._ " but we elected to keep it, as replacing it with the correct subject-pronoun, "Or it could be _she,_ " would be too jarring for most readers, who, given colloquial speaking patterns, would assume the word was incorrect.

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	31. Grief

Bella sat in the bed, both thinking about what Rose had told her and nervously anticipating Edward's return. She considered the veracity of what Rose had shared, weighing each purported truth in her mind. Into this mix, she added her own knowledge that she'd gathered in Volterra, recalling Carlisle's words in his treatise. If vampires were unchanging creatures, and Rose—and Carlisle—were correct, then Edward could still love her and not hate her as she had believed.

After months of doubting every goodness as suspect, it simply felt wrong to accept even the possibility that he might love her.

 _Edward loves me._ She tried repeating it in her mind.

After a few minutes, Edward had still not appeared, and Bella was too anxious to wait any longer. She slowly got up, smoothed her hands over her shirt and then made her very deliberate and careful way downstairs. Eight treads into this journey, Edward appeared at the bottom-most landing.

"Please sit down if you get dizzy." His jaw was tight, and he looked very, very anxious—or apprehensive. She couldn't tell, being in such an unsettled state herself.

"I will," she assured him. She had no intention of adding to her bodily injuries.

Edward took a step back as she approached the bottom, and she let out a shaky breath. She had been trying to overcome the physical revulsion she felt towards all vampires, but it would be some time, and she appreciated that he was sensitive to this.

"Would you like to sit outside?" Edward asked. He gestured towards the patio doors. "It's very private here, but there's a view from the deck."

"Sure," she said. How long had she been inside? She tried to link together the periods of light and dark.

It wasn't warm outside, but there was no chill either. Taking in the deep green of the tall trees around them, she didn't doubt they were in the Pacific Northwest, but her precision ended there.

"Where are we exactly?" She sat down on one of the lounge chairs, resting her legs gratefully. Sitting was still very uncomfortable.

"Just west of Seattle—near Port Orchard," Edward replied, handing her a blanket.

Their fingers brushed as she took it, and she shivered. Fear? Yes, a little—but that delicious spark, too. How easy it might be to succumb to those feelings the way she once had.

How dangerous, too. How hurt she could be. How hurt she has been. Now that she was beginning to believe that Edward hadn't been injured by her bargain the way she had thought, she was remembering just how much she had been hurt by him.

"Were you here," she asked, "when you left me?"

"No."

 _Tight-lipped as usual when hard questions are asked,_ she thought. A shiver of annoyance ran up her spine, and she checked herself. _Talk about swinging between emotional extremes._

"Where did you go?" She made her voice sound even, more even than she was feeling.

"The family went to New York. I went—many places."

Her jaw clenched at his continued evasion. "Do you not want to talk about it?" Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps it had been painful. _If he loves you_ , she reminded herself, _leaving you would have been painful._

"I tried to track Victoria," Edward said, "and discovered that I am an incredibly poor tracker."

He'd gone after her, and to think, Victoria had been so close by. Bella remembered the day on the beach when Jacob had plucked her from the water, so casually mentioning the red-headed vampire they had chased away just before Alice's stunning arrival and their frantic flight to Volterra.

"She came back," Bella said.

"What?" His eyes widened.

"Victoria came here, looking for me."

Edward stared. "How did you—?"

"The Quileutes. They're not just human." He would know this, but she wasn't certain what he would make of her enlightenment.

He groaned, hands in his hair. "I never even considered the idea that she would come back, Bella. Her mind was so full of flight and anger at me. I wanted to find and destroy her to make sure she never threatened you again, but I misread her entirely. And the Quileutes revealed themselves to you—you traded vampires for werewolves."

"I didn't exactly have any vampires to trade," she said quietly, continuing before he could interrupt or object. "And I didn't have much choice in the matter."

"I'm sorry." His voice was contrite. "I'm sorry that I left you at all, and in need of protection at that. I'm grateful that they protected you. It's just . . . there is no such thing as a benign supernatural creature, Bella. The wolves are dangerous, just as I am."

Bella thought of Emily's scarred face. She couldn't disagree entirely. It rankled her, though, that he expressed dislike of those who had been her only friends. Her friends were her own choice.

That was it, wasn't it? She'd had enough of men—mostly vampire men—making what should be her choices, hurting her with them. She set aside the realization, forcing herself to be calm and logical. Edward was not disapproving of her choice of friends; he was merely alarmed that they happened to be werewolves. She hadn't exactly let him make his own choice in Volterra, had she? No, there was damage on both sides of this relationship.

"Jacob was a good friend to me. He . . . none of the wolves hurt me." Of course, Jacob also hadn't written back to her in Italy. She wasn't sure if he still was a friend. He'd begged her not to leave, but she'd left anyway. She knew how it felt to beg someone not to leave. In all fairness, it was Jacob's taking that phone call meant for Charlie and his misleading statement to Edward that had made it imperative for her to go to Italy in the first place. Jake would never have intentionally put her in harm's way, she knew, but it only reminded her of how the misguided actions of men who professed to love her had inadvertently put her in the situation she was in now. Still, It would not be an easy reunion when she returned, if there was a reunion at all.

"I'm glad you were . . . safe and that you had friends. You deserve to have many," Edward said. "You deserve to have happiness." His face tensed, and his eyebrows furrowed. "So I ask this with great . . . reservation because, well . . ." His distress, so normally well concealed, was visible. "Bella . . . do you believe that I still love you?"

Her heart tripped over its next involuntary beat. She could get up and walk away. She could lie. Or she could say yes, taking that leap of faith and risking that fall into an abyss. It took several more stuttering heartbeats before she could speak. "I do." She blurted out the truth in her heart before fear swallowed her words again.

He closed his eyes briefly, his shoulders easing slightly. "And do you still want . . . us?"

His words blurred past her ears. She was still preoccupied with what she'd told him, trying to understand the implications of her utterance of those tiny words.

When she didn't respond to him this time, Edward's voice seemed to deflate. "I don't mean to presume. I haven't even asked if there was someone else—"

That snapped her back to reality. How could there be? She'd been in Volterra-ah, she realized he meant before then. "There's no one else. There wasn't anyone else." Her chest still ached because of his other question. Did she? Did she really want there to be an "us"? She found this so confusing. Yes, she still loved him. She had never lost sight of that truth, no matter what had come between them. And now she chose to accept that he loved her though the words still felt unreal.

Edward sounded remorseful as he spoke. "I would understand if you didn't want to be with me, given all that has happened."

His gaze held hers, and she studied his eyes, now a light honey colour. At least he was taking care of himself, or someone was making him take care of himself. She thought about how it had worried her, seeing his dark eyes in Volterra. This made her contemplate what it would be like, not seeing or being near him anymore, just as she'd been unable to in Volterra. She remembered how even those few brief sightings, as painful as they had been, had been welcome. Just to know that he was there, alive, had been enough. There was no question what she wanted if she let her instincts lead.

"Yes, I still want us."

She watched him lean slightly forward, his hands gripping the sides of the chaise as if he were just barely keeping himself back. He loosened his grip, carefully holding out one hand for hers.

She stared at it, unable to do more, unable to reciprocate. "I can't." Her voice shook. She really couldn't, not willingly. "I'm sorry, I can't. Not yet. I love you, Edward, but I think I need—"

"I understand entirely." He picked up the edge of the blanket that she'd left folded on her lap, twisting it around his hand. "Would this make it . . . easier?"

But it wasn't that his skin was cold. It was what that hand could _do_. She shook her head.

He pulled back his hand. "Okay." His smooth expression revealed nothing of the rejection he must be feeling, and Bella was grateful for this kindness from him.

And though they had erased one boundary between them and acknowledged the bond that held them still, she could not help but feel tears begin their journey at her eyes, running down her cheeks. She rubbed at them with the back of her hand. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Edward said. He smiled softly. "I take them as a compliment."

"You do?" Her brow furrowed.

"People don't normally cry in front of someone they don't feel safe with."

The truth of it was rooted deeply in her flesh and bones. Yes, she did. She smiled at him, a tiny and tenuous production. His smile grew in response to her own, and she took this as a very, very good thing and a beginning to a way out of all the grief they'd known in the last many months.

\- 0 -

It was sunny outside, which meant that all of the Cullens were inside the house at the moment, or at least Bella assumed so. She blinked at the bright sunlight blazing through the family room skylights. Edward and Emmett were doing something with the video controllers in their hands. It was hard to tell what because the volume on the television seemed to be off. At some timeless point earlier in the afternoon, Edward had asked her if she'd wanted to watch a movie with him downstairs. She'd said yes, and she remembered watching the first part of the comedy. Clearly though, she'd fallen asleep—again. Carlisle had told her that she would still be very tired for a while but that it would get better fairly quickly. He'd also explained why, but her brain had stopped processing a lot of the information once he got to terms she didn't have a fully functioning grasp of. She blinked again, the blurry shapes around her clarifying more. At least she'd only needed to nap once so far today. If it was still today. She let her gaze drift over her clothes and the light blanket that had been draped over her. No, someone would have moved her to her bed if she'd slept for that long.

Edward glanced over at her from where he sat beside Emmett. Their fingers blurred with speed over the buttons. "Hi," he said, smiling at her. His fingers didn't stop moving.

"Awesome. You can witness me kicking his butt now that you're awake," Emmett said. Then he threw down his controller and stood up to do a victory dance. "Thanks for distracting him, Bella."

The sunlight sparkled off of him, and to Bella, it looked entirely ridiculous. She laughed, the sound that came out of her so relaxed that she almost didn't recognize it as emanating from her. Edward glowered at Emmett, which made her laugh even more. It was so . . . normal.

Emmett stopped his dance, pulling the controller from Edward's hand and holding it out in Bella's direction. "Wanna try?" He took a step towards her.

He didn't get very close because Bella flinched in her seat, and Edward inserted himself between her and his brother, a low vibration in her own chest telling her that he was growling.

"No, thank you," she said, standing up and sliding further away from them both, resettling herself on the far end of the couch. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Edward was bound to be a little hypervigilant, she told herself, all things considered, but the movement recalled others like it from Volterra, ones better left forgotten.

Her cheeks were warm, and when she glanced back up, Edward's posture appeared entirely relaxed and human again. Emmett's back was disappearing behind Rosalie's in the direction of the basement stairs.

Edward ran his hand through his hair, disordering it and making him look more his uncertain self again. "I apologize. I'm feeling rather—"

"Overprotective. I can tell."

It was a small and abashed smile that appeared on his face. "Yes. Rosalie is still rolling her eyes at me."

Bella smiled, too, feeling herself relax a bit.

"Are you hungry? You were asleep for a little while. I can—"

"Thank you, no. I'm fine." She shrugged. "Sorry about the movie."

He shook his head, dismissing her apology.

She exhaled, the minor feeling of alarm now completely gone. Taking stock, she realized that it felt odd, being awake, at leisure, and well . . . calm. She'd been so unwell for the last few days and more than just physically. Clearly movies put her to sleep though, and she didn't want to read. She did want to do _something_ with Edward. She cast her eyes around the room. Ah, yes. The chessboard sat on a small table tucked away behind the loveseat. Edward had begun to teach her how to play towards the end of last summer. "Are you up for a game?" she asked. "Actually, no. Let me rephrase that. Are you up for likely kicking my ass at chess?"

She liked watching him grin. "How about I teach you a few more moves? You're not that far from being able to play seriously against me. You have the greatest advantage available." He tapped his head.

"Do I?" she asked, moving to sit across from him at the small table.

"It appears so."

"Is that a really polite way of telling me you can hear what I'm thinking, but you're too gentlemanly to tell me?" To her knowledge, there hadn't been a repeat of his being able to hear her thoughts since it had happened, but the possibility was there.

"I wouldn't keep that from you, Bella." He set the chess pieces in place. He had the black, she the white. When he reached over to reverse her king and queen, his finger just brushed hers as she dropped a bishop into place. The familiar jolt was a pleasant one. It travelled up her hand and arm to her heart where it curled into a tiny fading whirl of warmth. _It used to feel that way_ , she told herself. _Normal_ _for us_.

Us. That didn't feel normal yet. She was still getting used to the idea. Her body was still getting used to being near Edward. But it was becoming easier, and that was something.

After two moves from him and three from her, he cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "The Spanish move. It's a good strategy for a long game."

She shrugged, not wanting to give anything away. She'd liked playing chess with him, not that she'd ever won, but it had been fun to know that his family considered her uniquely qualified to beat him at some time in the future. Of course, beyond this basic opening move, she'd forgotten a great deal of the game. She'd only recalled it after watching the old men by the fire play one day at the Conti's cafe. Watching them shift the pieces, she'd recognized the classic opening.

Despite what Edward said, it wasn't a very long game. She really had forgotten some of the key points he'd given her all those months before. After what seemed like only a few minutes of play, she was down to an alarmingly few number of pieces.

"Always protect your queen," he said apologetically, shaking his head as he lifted the crown-topped piece from the board with elegant fingers and replaced it with his bishop. "Check."

She groaned. "Well, at least some things never change."

"What things?"

How did he ask that with a straight face? "Losing to you?" she replied, nudging a pawn forward, wondering if she could take his bishop next.

With an exaggerated sigh, Edward brought his queen from across the board and set it beside Bella's king. She had to give him credit for the sympathetic tone of his voice as he murmured, "Checkmate."

She laughed into her hands before reaching forward to tip her king over with a flourish. "As I said, reassuringly similar." Resting her hands on the table, she watched his features light up with his smile, his golden eyes glowing with something like happiness. Yes, very reassuring.

* * *

A/N for 2020-08-24: Many, many thanks to Chayasara over on Fanfiction.net for her patience with my salt-shaker of commas and for making all my words make sense. Eeyorefan12 gets credit this week for playing out and filming the chess game described herein, which, once I saw it, confirmed for me that I am most definitely not a chess player! According to her research, Eeyorefan12 assures me that the game *might* just be plausible. 

For those of you who are still here, hope you're enjoying the ride!

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	32. Relief

Demetri did not ask if he could kiss Bella, nor did he ask permission when he further spread apart her split nightgown. The crimson satin eased off the sides of her body, pushed down to melt into the soft folds of the bedspread.

His cold fingers slid up her thigh, squeezing at the tender skin, making her shiver but not with pleasure. The rest of her body wanted to crawl away from this contact and everything else he'd promised to do.

"Does this feel good?" He watched her intently, his face only inches from her own.

Bella turned away. She couldn't fight him. She could only endure what he chose to do, and she chose to do so silently.

"Hmm." Demetri's fingers moved slightly upwards. "Perhaps here instead?" He rubbed gently but still in the same place, the repetition in such a sensitive spot quickly becoming distressing and uncomfortable. She twitched and tried to yank herself away from his touch.

"Wake up, Bella." Edward's voice was the only soft thing in this nightmarish moment.

She jerked as her eyes opened, sitting up and trying to shove off the body that wasn't actually there.

Edward's hand riffled through his hair as he leaned forward in the chair by the bed. He looked like he wanted to stand but was hesitating.

Bella swallowed, aware that her breathing was very erratic. "That was just a dream," she said to herself, a really shitty dream that seemed to be playing on repeat. Her breathing continued its unsteady rhythm.

Edward cleared his throat.

No. He made a sound _as if_ he'd cleared his throat; vampires didn't need to clear their throats.

"Hi," she said.

He nodded curtly, his jaw tight. "How're you feeling?"

"Not great."

"It's been about a day and a half since you've had any venom, Bella. Your heart is—"

"Beating too fast." She could tell.

She closed her eyes, trying to make peace with what she knew was imminent. How she felt about Edward didn't make it any easier nor did knowing how he felt about her. Physical contact—she shuddered.

But it was better if they got it over with sooner. "Okay."

"Where is it easiest to do this?" Edward asked. He eyed the chair.

She knew sitting there would be physically awkward for both of them and shook her head. "Here's probably best."

He sat beside her on the bed, then scooted back, bringing his legs around her in a V so that her back rested against his torso. Despite the fact that she knew this was in no way sexual, she blushed. He wasn't aroused, but she could feel him nonetheless. This was not a position in which they'd ever sat before. Uncomfortably confused feelings, physical and emotional, tangled together in her gut.

Without touching her skin with his hand, Edward pushed her hair aside and brought his tongue to the back of her neck. She shivered, the twitch in her skin continuing as he moved in slow and methodical lines. It alarmed her how insanely good it felt, not his body touching hers, but the chemistry playing out inside her. The glow that began as heat spread, waves of it moving directly outward from where his tongue met her skin. It was a struggle to keep her breathing even. He switched sides, and control became more difficult as increased sensation spread throughout her torso. Her chest and then her breasts ached with pleasure. When he knelt in front of her, tongue to her clavicle, the warmth reached a place where she didn't want to feel it—no, she corrected herself, a place where she didn't want to _remember_ what she had felt there so recently.

Demetri had made good on one aspect of his promise: what he'd done _had_ pulled pleasure from her body, unwilling as she had been in its rendering. She had felt the diverting sensations then, but now she felt the ensuing guilt and revulsion.

She yanked herself away from Edward before that feeling arose again.

Edward remained frozen on the bed, and she understood he was worried that his movement would frighten her. "Your heart rate is still very elevated," he said carefully, just as carefully shifting his position to sit cross-legged.

"Yes," Bella agreed. Shame made her cheeks warm uncomfortably. "I just need a break."

"Of course," Edward said.

The itchiness had returned. She wanted to twitch because it was so uncomfortable but also because she knew the cure was sitting so close by. Her discomfort extended to the silence between them, and she felt obliged to provide something of an explanation. "Sorry, it just . . . felt too good."

"You've become addicted to the venom, Bella. It's natural that your body reacts favourably to it."

"It's not that."

"Is it something to do with what Demetri did?" Edward asked softly.

She supposed her flaming cheeks were hint enough. "Yes."

She had allowed herself to pretend, when necessary, that Edward would not know the details of what had happened. She could not pretend any longer, nor could she find her voice to relay her specific concern. Her face was warm with both shame and then frustration.

Edward seemed to understand, though. "Some reactions are simply physiological, Bella, not intentional. And it's not at all unusual for women to experience physical arousal during an assault. It doesn't mean you wanted that."

Though relieved she didn't have to explain, her greater discomfort remained. In part, she understood that it would be better if she simply accepted what had happened to her. She hadn't had any choice, after all, but it was not so simple to detangle herself from those powerful emotions.

"I'm sorry," he said.

And along with all those powerful feelings, anger rose too. "Why are _you_ apologizing?" she snapped. "It wasn't your fault." The guilt hit like whiplash. She pressed her hands to her face. "Oh, Edward. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

Edward's hand twitched forward slightly as if he wanted to reach for hers, but he kept it where it was.

What he had said was logical, but her feelings around what had happened were not. "I get what you're saying, and it's reasonable. It's just—"

"Hard to accept."

"Yes."

"I can imagine it would be frightening to anticipate feeling that way again, especially near one of our kind." He spoke softly.

"You can say that again." She looked at the books on the bedside table. His choice of reading material took on a whole new dimension.

Edward's gaze followed hers. "They didn't really tell me anything I didn't already know. When Rosalie joined us, it was a . . . difficult transition, as it was when Emmett arrived."

She nodded, remembering her conversation with Rosalie about the last moments of her human life. She realized, somewhat belatedly, why Edward seemed so good at understanding what was happening to her now. Perhaps he hadn't seen firsthand what Rosalie had experienced, but she had admitted to bringing all of those devastating memories with her when she had joined the family. Not only had Edward been there for Rosalie's change, he would have seen the moments of his sister's attack as she'd relived them. What was different, Bella realized now, was that he had seen her own assault through the mind of her rapist. As Rosalie had reminded her, vampire memories were forever. _Oh, Edward._

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and not because she felt anxious. A fresh wave of prickles rippled over her skin, and she knew that if Edward didn't start again, she'd begin feeling the more profound effects of the withdrawal.

Taking a deep breath, she said with as much humour as she could muster, "I warn you, I may ugly cry."

Edward chuckled. "You could never be ugly."

It was a real laugh that left her lips. "You have always been very good at flattering me."

"Flattery is insincere, and I am in no way insincere in my praise." There was no hint of humour in his voice.

 _Don't_ , she told herself, when she thought to deny the compliment. She'd always rejected his praise before, struggling under a weight of unworthiness. She had grown out of that timid adolescence in the last few months, and she wasn't going back. Meeting his gaze, she nodded, accepting this compliment.

"Ready?" He held out his arms and knelt, his position inviting her return.

"Sure," she said. With an uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach, she moved closer so that she sat facing him. He leaned forward to begin his ministrations. This time, he began just below her clavicle, working outwards and down her arms. The warm inner glow grew rapidly, spreading again down through her stomach, her hips, and finally all the way to her legs. The sensation she feared didn't occur, and when she was certain of that, her muscles unclenched, her defenses finally dismantled. It wasn't pleasure she felt but relief and then finally sadness that she still feared Edward's touch.

\- 0 -

It was just over a week since they'd returned, and as Bella stared at her small bag of possessions, she frowned. Though she hadn't explicitly discussed it with the Cullens yet, she knew she was almost ready to return home. She was able to go a full thirty-six hours without needing venom, and even then, the withdrawal symptoms had been very mild when she'd tested her endurance. However, looking at her bag, she knew that there was no way Charlie would believe she'd lived in Italy for three months with only what was there. The absence of souvenirs was noticeable, too, not that she was much of a shopper. Still, she would have come home with something.

She pulled the brush through her hair one last time and then smoothed her shirt down over her stomach. It was a habit she'd developed in Volterra, studying herself in the mirror before she went outside. She chuckled a little. Alice would be proud.

"Morning," Edward said, knocking on her door. When the worst of the withdrawal had ended, so had her lack of privacy. She went to sleep alone, and she woke alone. She liked it.

"Hey, yourself," she replied, smiling at him. He backed up from the door as she approached.

"Breakfast?" he asked.

She nodded, following him down the stairs. He kept a careful distance from her, leaving just enough space for her to feel comfortable.

While she'd appreciated the food that had been prepared for her by the Cullens, her own desire to cook had won out soon after her strength returned. She'd missed not just creating her own meals in Volterra but having the ability to be creative with food, period.

"Eggs again?" Edward asked.

"Mm-hmm," she said, cracking two into a bowl and whisking them. Beside her, the frying pan sizzled with garlic, onions, and mushrooms. She contemplated adding ham and parmesan. "Judging my dietary choice?" She lifted a playful eyebrow.

"No. I'm just surprised. I'd have thought you'd want more variety in your food, or you know, Pop-Tarts."

She shrugged and chuckled. "Pop-Tarts are old Bella, I guess. I'm just happy to make my own food. God, my own hot food." That last part was more than true.

Someone had already readied the coffee press, and for this she was grateful, pouring the hot water into the container.

"Cold food does sound unappealing," Edward agreed, making a face.

She blinked. He never referred to his hunting. Perhaps this was a sign of a new Edward? "Yeah, that does sound . . . eww." She thought of cold deer blood.

Edward didn't look away, but there was a flicker of discomfort in his features.

A change of topic was in order. She cleared her throat. "I should start making plans to go home."

Edward's eyes widened slightly.

"I mean, I want to see Charlie—"

"I understand," Edward said. "Sorry, I . . ." He pulled in a breath and released it.

It was instinctual to reassure him, reaching out a hand to briefly grab his, but as soon as she did, she gasped, releasing it as if touching his skin had burned her.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Edward's lips twitched. "Keep talking like that, and Charlie's going to think you've been in Canada all this time."

She blinked, then abruptly laughed as she got the joke. "Right. Well, on that note, I'm thinking I need to get a few things before I appear at home."

"Okay." Edward folded his arms. Bella wondered if it was so he didn't try to reach out to her. "Have you given any thought to what you're going to tell him about your time away?"

"Some," she said. "I mean, I have the cover story the Volturi created, but . . ." She wasn't entirely sure how she would explain to Charlie her physical aversion to the Cullens. She also wasn't sure how she was going to feel about being near Charlie either. Would she even be able to hug him? She knew that sticking as close to the truth was best. "He's going to see that something has happened, and I'd rather have an explanation to give him than be at the mercy of his questions or suspicions."

She plated her omelette and brought it to the table along with her coffee. Edward sat down across from her as she began eating, but instead of watching her, he seemed to be quite interested in the view through the kitchen window. She took a sip of coffee before continuing her thoughts. "I was planning to tell him that I'm recovering from an addiction."

Edward nodded, looking at her then. "It's true enough, and it gives you a reason not to want to discuss your time in Italy."

She took another sip of coffee, enjoying the warmth of the cup in her hands.

"Will you tell him about . . . ?"

He didn't need to finish the question for her to understand to what he referred. Despite having considered this possibility herself, the drink still curdled in her stomach. She put down the cup. "No."

Edward exhaled slightly. He seemed mildly relieved by her response. "May I ask why?"

"He's probably going to be really angry with me, Edward, and that I can deal with, but I don't know if I could handle him looking at me with pity for the last few months I have him in my life."

Edward's jaw tightened.

"You don't approve."

"No, I—it isn't my place to decide or approve," he said, shaking his head. "You need to make your own choices. I'm . . . I wish I had found another way to extricate you without having to have made that bargain. But you know even more about our world now and Aro . . . well, his letting you leave with me was already a huge concession."

Ah. He still didn't want to change her. Her old insecurity returned with full force, the emotions washing over her face.

His gaze softened immediately. "It isn't that I don't want you to be like me, Bella," he said earnestly. "It's that I want it to be your choice entirely—when, if, where, and why. I hate that there is this sword hanging over your head."

Relieved, Bella scolded herself for her brittle insecurity, realizing afresh that she and Edward were now of the same mind on a topic that had divided them so profoundly before. The irony of these circumstances did not escape her.

"When?" she asked. She assumed it was soon, but she hadn't been ready to ask before now.

He looked down. "By the fall, before the beginning of October at the very latest. The very latest."

Just over three months. It was more than some people got when given a terminal diagnosis, wasn't it? "Okay." She would get to say goodbye. She could make peace with this.

"I think your plan with Charlie will work. You can truthfully say that Carlisle has supervised your treatment. He can help you with your other medical needs too."

Her gaze flicked back up to his over the rim of the mug. What other medical needs? "And what would those be?"

"Have you had enough to eat?" He wasn't even pretending he hadn't avoided her question as his facial features displayed his discomfort.

"I have now." She put her cup down, nudging her plate farther away from her. "What medical needs?"

He said it quietly as if to make sure his words wouldn't travel to all the ears in the house—as if that were even possible, she thought wryly. "Your stitches should be nearly dissolved, but they should be checked, given . . ." She watched his lips twist with something like chagrin as his voice trailed off.

Oh. "I can have that taken care of when I'm home."

Edward shook his head. "You can't see another doctor, Bella."

And now that he had put it into words, she recognized the truth her intuition had already known. "It's my heart, isn't it?"

"Partly, yes."

"And?"

"Truthfully, we have no idea what the venom's done to you." He looked pained to say it. "We can't risk anyone becoming curious about it."

No, they couldn't. Even though so many details were difficult, a surprising spark of joy could be found in his words.

"There would also be other questions about such an injury," Edward continued, clearly unaware of where her thoughts had focused, "and while I'd like to think that a doctor would respect a patient's confidentiality, the peninsula is a small place. I don't think you'd want your father to hear about it indirectly."

She nodded in agreement, but then she smiled a tiny smile at him.

"I did not expect this topic of conversation to produce that reaction," Edward said, puzzled.

"It's not that," she said. "It's just that earlier, you said ' _we.'_ "

His smile was as uneven as ever, but she thought that perhaps it was a tiny bit bigger than she'd seen in a while.

She'd take that.

* * *

A/N for 2020-08-26: Many, many thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for all their work on this chapter.

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	33. Nothing Rational

Bella blinked at the car in front of her. It was the same silver Volvo Edward had driven in Forks. She supposed it shouldn’t surprise her that they’d kept it. It was a perfectly good car, but it was also a car that held many memories, some good, some less so.

“We can take another car if you want,” Edward said.

“No, it’s fine. I just . . . do you mind if I drive?”

“Not at all.” He held out the keys, which she took, noticing that he offered them so their hands didn’t touch. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat, she felt her stomach flutter with excitement. She hadn’t driven in months. It meant she could choose where they’d go. It meant freedom, independence! 

Except, she hadn’t the vaguest idea of where to go. Familiarizing herself with the controls, she tried to recall the last time she’d even been in this area. She thought of Port Orchard as simply one of the towns they drove through on the way home to Forks from Sea-Tac Airport. She tried to remember if they had passed any shopping centers on those drives. 

“There’s a mall not too far from here.”

Her gaze snapped to his face. “Could you hear—”

“No,” he said, smiling, “Simply a logical deduction: clothes, malls. Alice trained me well.”

She let herself chuckle, silencing the disquieting feeling that squirmed in her stomach every time Alice’s or Jasper’s name was mentioned.

There had been so many other things that had occupied her conversations with Edward, they hadn’t even come back to the fact that he’d heard her thoughts—well once, anyway. Surely he would have discussed it with Carlisle, wouldn’t he? 

“You must have theories as to why you could hear my thinking.”

“Only the most speculative.” He reached up and pressed a button on the remote attached to the driver’s side visor. The garage door lifted behind them.

For a brief moment, she wondered if that were true or if it was a polite way of deflecting more questions. She shook off the doubt. As far as she could tell, he’d been nothing but truthful with her. He also hadn’t answered or reacted to any of her thoughts since that event. She reversed slowly, checking to make sure the car’s path was clear of obstacles, pausing at the garage exit. 

Edward remained still beside her. Too still. It had been no secret previously that he preferred to drive. Perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable saying so now? God, she was second-guessing _everything_. 

“Um, are you really okay with me driving?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s fine. Why?”

She shook her head and reversed the last little bit out of the garage, hitting the remote to close the garage door. Edward’s question tugged at some murky concern in her insides. Setting aside the feeling, she focused on navigating the long driveway. 

Bella enjoyed driving. Edward had given her a few routes from which to choose, and Bella elected to stick to the quieter side roads, giving her a leisurely pace at which to take in the houses and signs, smiling a little whenever she saw the speed limit written in miles. When Edward asked her if she would like to listen to music, she had told him to choose, and he had put on something she didn’t recognize but found soothing. Aside from the mellow jazz in the background, they rode in companionable silence for a few minutes. 

Despite the pleasure of the drive, Bella was soon preoccupied with the manifestations of her doubt: Why? Why _was_ she questioning his every answer, his every word? While she’d wrestled some of her doubt to the ground, a hefty amount remained, for she didn’t trust herself, or more precisely, her _judgment_. In Volterra, she’d sacrificed Edward’s freedom for his life. Though she couldn’t regret his being alive, she could no longer ignore the selfishness of the action itself as well as the horrific lack of judgment with which she’d made her decision. Subject to Demetri’s whims, Bella had had ample opportunity to study the misery of having one’s will subjugated to another’s. 

She stiffened, the thought of even his name making her twitchy. The wheel slipped slightly under her hand, the car veering to the right. Correcting the direction quickly, she caught Edward’s sideways glance and pulled over onto the shoulder. The ground was soft, likely very muddy. There was no such thing as a dry spring on the Washington coast. She turned off the car. This matter might take a while. 

“Do you want me to drive?” Edward asked.

“No, thank you. I just need a break.” She paused. “No, that’s not true. I . . . there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“I’m all ears,” Edward said. 

He waggled his for her, and she laughed. She’d missed this playful Edward. She’d missed _him._

“Before, before you left—”

His wince was fleeting, but she caught it before he smoothed his features. 

Oh boy. Wrong way to begin this conversation. 

Bella smiled weakly and tried again. “I wasn’t very good before at”—she struggled for the words and found herself almost doing an eye roll as she used the ones he’d once offered her—“seeing myself clearly.”

Yes, that _was_ a tiny smirk on Edward’s face. Naturally he would remember. 

“That’s what you said to me then except I don’t think you had an entirely accurate picture of things either.” When she checked, his expression was serious and his gaze intent on hers.

“And I’ve made some incredibly poor decisions without regard to their consequences. I’ve been really locked into views of myself that have been, I think, unhealthy. I mean, I used to think of myself as not . . . being worthy, I guess, of your attention—”

“Bella—”

“Please, let me finish.” She knew she had to get through this while she had this opportunity . . . and the nerve. 

Edward nodded, pressing his lips together as if it was a struggle for him to stay silent. On this subject, it probably was. 

It was too hard for her to say this while she could see him looking at her, so she dropped her gaze to her lap and fiddled with the car keys in her hand. “The last few months have helped me see how warped that view was. I admit I still see myself as not good enough sometimes, but I’m trying to overcome that. I think I have a much stronger sense of who I am now. I’m still working on everything, but I think I’m finding a balance.”

She chanced a look at Edward, wondering if he would object to what she was saying, but he was still just watching her with that inscrutable expression of his, listening, so she went on. “However, I’ve also realized how blindly I’ve acted and how much damage I’ve caused. I wasn’t even thinking of what you wanted when I made that bargain with Aro—”

“You’ve more than apologized for that,” Edward said. “And it won’t change anything to keep dwelling on it. None of this was your fault. I’ve told you that you don’t owe me any apologies.” His jaw was tight as he spoke. 

Was he angry with her? He hadn’t been upset when they’d spoken of this before. In fact, he’d been nothing but calm and even conciliatory for the past week. Was it because she was treading old ground again, opening a wound that had just barely begun to heal? Already unsure that she was approaching this conversation in the right way, she was even more uncertain now. Should she wait? No, she decided. There was nothing to gain in waiting, and it had already taken too much out of her to even bring it up today. She knew she needed to push forward. Her voice felt a little shakier as she continued talking. “I still need to say this. I made some other very illogical decisions before, too, choices which I can see now were so unnecessarily hurtful.”

“Such as?” His tone was formal, and she wondered if she was sensing impatience from him or something darker. 

She swallowed, nerves trembling. She could feel herself losing her focus, and the thought of not being able to get this out after coming this far made her blurt out, “Um . . . I was really stubborn about gifts.” It was the first of her perceived transgressions that came into her head.

“Gifts,” Edward repeated, his voice flat. 

For a few moments, there was nothing but total silence in the car. Bella stared at her lap again, aware that Edward seemed frozen in that way that she had come to loathe. She wondered if he would say anything else or if she should. Maybe he was waiting for her to explain.

“Yes, I . . . I know it used to bother you, hurt you even, and now that I—”

“Stop.” 

She blinked at the stark directive but did as he asked, halting her speech mid-sentence. In the next moment he was out of the car, shutting the door behind him with more force than she’d ever known him to use. Through the windshield, she watched him pace back and forth a few times along the shoulder with his hands on his hips, moving at a speed that was dangerously close to being inhuman before he finally stopped and stared at the trees that lined the road.

Alarmed at his response, she emerged slowly from the driver’s side. She was physically feeling much better, but she still moved carefully, not quite trusting the way her body operated under the effects of the withdrawal. And Edward was clearly agitated for reasons that were unclear. Although she didn’t fear him, she feared _for_ him in this moment. 

“Edward?”

“Gifts?” he snapped, turning to face her. “You want to apologize for not accepting gifts?”

This was obviously not a question to which he expected a response.

His hands were in fists at his sides. “You were, what, _minutes_ from trying to kill yourself when I got to you?” He huffed out a breath. “You even tried to do it after I was there. And you want to apologize for something as ridiculous as being ungracious in accepting _gifts_? Do you have any idea how that felt, knowing you were going to kill yourself rather than leave with me?”

 _What the hell?_ Had he lost his mind? Where was this coming from? Had he forgotten about his own suicide attempt? She thought of Demetri and his double standards, and instead of fear, there was a wave of rage on which she rode out her next words, “You mean, just like you did before I stopped _you_?”

“I thought you were _dead,_ Bella! You knew I was alive when you tried to kill yourself! I was right in front of you!”

“That is . . .” She could feel herself scrunching her features together, angry and struggling to make sense of this craziness that had come out of nowhere. “They . . . we . . . those were completely different circumstances. There is _no_ comparison.” She shook her head, spluttering out, “How can you even be angry at me for that after _you_ tried to kill yourself? After Demetri—after what he did—I knew I’d still have to be near him for the rest of my life, Edward, human or not. And I didn’t just think you’d stopped loving me. I thought you _hated_ me. So there is no rational argument for you to be upset like this.”

“There is _every_ reason for me to be upset like this!” The words poured out of him as if an invisible dam had broken. “There is nothing _rational_ about the way I feel about you!”

For all the times she told herself that he would never hurt her, when she read the fierceness of the emotion on his face, her body had other ideas. Her foot seemed to move of its own volition, stepping away from him. The patchy grass slid out from under her, and she found herself falling and being caught in a very hard pair of arms, hard and yet gentle as they had always felt to her, even now. 

She was upright again so quickly, she didn’t have time to react to his touch. Edward stepped back, though Bella could see he still watched her closely. He kept his hands loosely at his sides as his eyes met hers.

“I frightened you.”

She shook her head, even though she knew he could hear her heart nearly beating out of her chest. 

“I won’t hurt you, Bella,” he said, adding more softly, “ever again.” 

She studied his face, looking for vestiges of the rage that had been there a moment before, but it was gone. Had his mood altered that quickly, or was he doing what he did best, hiding his emotions? She could find only sincerity and possibly sadness in his eyes.

She had to take a steadying breath before she could speak again. “I’m not afraid of you.” She would will this to be true, even though it wasn’t entirely, not yet. “It’s just . . . you’re so angry, and I don’t get why. Where did this come from?” 

He took another step back, putting his hands in his pockets this time, completing the human charade. A few moments later, a lone car drove past them, and she realized the gesture hadn’t been for her benefit. Always on guard, she realized suddenly. Always watching, always careful.

“I apologize for my behaviour,” Edward said. “It terrified me, Bella. You were so injured, so ill when I came for you in Volterra. I was afraid I was going to lose you before I could get you home. And then I almost did.” He looked away from her for a moment, turning his eyes to the highway, watching two more cars go by. Her memories of that day weren’t as clear as his had to be, but yes, he had been moments from losing her. 

He was quiet for so long that Bella wondered if he had finished, but then he began to speak again, his voice thick with emotion. “I wasn’t able to give you comfort then. I can’t even _touch_ you now without causing you distress.” He caught her gaze quickly before she could react. “No, don’t feel badly about that. Please don’t. This is not on you.” 

His vulnerability was unprecedented, and she barely breathed out her “Okay,” not wanting to risk spoiling this moment with him.

“I love you, Bella. I love you so much that it’s agony for me to know you were in enough pain to want to kill yourself.”

She knew exactly how he felt. For just a moment, she had the urge to reach for him, to put her arms around him. Her fear held her back, but the almost physical ache was comforting—it was evidence of how much they were still connected. 

“I haven’t been able to—” He blew out a breath, trying again. “I’m explaining all of this badly. I have wanted to talk about these things, but sometimes it felt like I was still in Volt—back in Italy, unable to tell you what I wanted to. Everyone has been so worried about you, about both of us. The minute we were back, they were all in my head constantly—their concern, their joy, their recriminations; my father in one ear telling me to control my emotions so I didn’t upset you or Esme; and then Esme in the other, ecstatic that we were home but reminding me every minute that I had broken everyone’s hearts and how fragile you were—”

“But I’m not,” Bella said. 

Amazingly, a smirk appeared on his face. “That’s what Rose was telling me—in between colorful epithets.” 

Encouraged, Bella smiled too. “And what was Emmett saying? Let’s play _Call of Duty_?”

He laughed. It was more of a brief chuckle than anything, but suddenly the moment was lighter, and there was a flicker of something hopeful in the air again. 

“You are the one person who can . . . affect me this way, Bella. Apparently, that’s not always a good thing for you,” Edward said wryly. “I’m just glad that you’re finally ascribing to yourself the value you deserve. You should. For the record, you were always _more_ than enough for me . . . and more than I deserved. You are everything.” 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded once, trying to accept his affirmation gracefully. His earlier unexpected response in the car had thrown her. The list of things she’d wanted to address had become scrambled, and for some reason, her inability to accept gifts had come stumbling towards the forefront of her consciousness. The other, greater flaws in her judgment were clear in her mind at the moment though. Now that she had managed this difficult conversation with Edward without any real damage, she could tell him the rest.

“I have more things I’d like to say,” she told him. 

Edward followed her gaze when she glanced at the Volvo several yards behind them and gave her a sheepish look. “Perhaps we can continue this somewhere besides the side of a country highway,” he said, waving a hand in the direction of the car. “Do you mind if I drive for a little while?”

“No,” she said. As she walked to where Edward was holding the passenger door open for her, she had to admit that the fatigue was catching up to her, and they had a lot left to do today. She suspected that with Edward at the wheel, they might make up some of the time lost during their roadside conversation.

While he’d described their destination as “close,” Bella was beginning to get a sense of just how remote the Cullens’ property was, relative to the area. They were several more minutes into the drive when Edward spoke again. “There was more you wanted to say, wasn’t there?”

She forced herself to be brave. “I pushed you for intimacy you weren’t ready for,” she said. “Before, I mean.” It was true. She had done that repeatedly despite his many clear refusals. She knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that, disparity in physical strength aside. “It wasn’t fair to you, and I was wrong. I hurt you by doing that, and I hurt you when I gave up on you in Italy—”

Edward shook his head, glancing away from the road only briefly. “No one would have expected you not to believe what they told you, Bella. I lied to you when I left you in Forks. I was . . . forbidden to give you any sign of what I felt in Volterra. How could you have known?”

He _had_ been forbidden to communicate with her. She had accepted that explanation, and she believed it. Still. “I’m sorry for putting you through it, though. It was selfish, and now I know it was cruel, having been on the other side of it . . . with you.” 

There was a small flicker of pride that they could have this conversation so honestly. 

“You didn’t push me beyond what I wanted. You listened to me, Bella. As I see it, you were simply clear about what you wanted.”

What she had wanted. It seemed ironic now. Once it had been what she had wanted most from him and his refusals had driven her to distraction. Now, the mere thought of it drove her to panic. But the fact remained that he’d had his reasons, and she had ignored them, for the most part. She had pressured him, verbally and physically, to change his mind. Edward’s characterization now seemed overly generous, but she set it aside for the moment.

“I pushed other boundaries, too. I disregarded your feelings about my physical safety when we were . . . intimate and then when you didn’t want to change me.”

“And I disregarded your wishes without explaining more clearly what I thought was at stake,” Edward said. 

She knew she was scowling. He didn’t understand. She needed him to let her take responsibility, to respect her enough to do that. “You deserve better than what I gave you before. I want to be better, not just for you, but for myself because I’ve seen what selfish thinking does to someone.”

This seemed to give him pause. He was quiet as he drove, slowing as they approached a logging truck which was holding up traffic. She supposed he was looking through the truck driver’s eyes to see when it would be clear to pass. Finally he said, “You are not a selfish person, Bella. Far from it.”

“You seem ridiculously opposed to the idea of me admitting my mistakes,” she said.

His smile was just as beautiful in profile. “No. It’s just that when I said you didn’t see yourself clearly, it was because you found yourself so flawed then. So ‘unworthy,’ as you put it.”

“My realistic sense of self-worth is a work in progress, as is my judgment.” 

He nodded. “I’m sorry, again, about my . . . outburst.”

“We should get matching tattoos with that phrase,” she said, smiling a little. “Right here.” She pointed to her palm, and he took a quick glance. “We can hold them up whenever they’re needed.”

He chuckled at her paltry humour. “I would hope we won’t have much more need for that phrase, at least not with each other.” He chose that moment to smoothly enter the opposing lane, having found his opening to pass the truck. 

“Me too.”

“What else did you want to talk about?”

They were doing so well, she was worried about tackling this last part. “Are you sure you want to be driving while I tell you this?”

Edward eyed her for a moment. “The mall is just ahead. Let me park.”

He pulled into the parking structure and drove up a few levels until he found one empty of cars. He didn’t say anything more, but he turned off the ignition and turned in his seat to look at her. His open gaze didn’t make her nervous, but anticipating his response did. This part felt more like a confession than any of the rest.

She decided it was best to start with something that wasn’t new information. “I didn’t think about what it would mean for you when I chose to meet James on my own. I . . . should have listened.” In her peripheral vision, she saw him close one hand tightly around the steering wheel, almost as if he was anchoring himself in place, but it seemed to be his entire reaction, and he kept his eyes on hers. “As for other things you should know, when you left last fall, I . . . started hearing your voice.”

“My _voice_?”

She didn’t like the edge she heard in his tone and wondered if she should try to tread lightly even though he seemed calm enough now. “In my head,” she said quickly. “I knew it was imagined. I knew it wasn’t real. I wasn’t insane, but then . . . I wasn’t really in a good space after you left. I figured that out when I started _doing_ things—certain activities—in order to hear that voice.”

“What kinds of activities?” Again, there was a sharp note to his voice, and there might have been a tick in his jaw, but his expression was still even, somewhat calm. She hoped it wasn’t simply his habitual mask and that everything he’d told her today had been the truth. 

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to muster courage for another explosion. He wouldn’t hurt her, she told herself. She had to repeat that litany a few times in her head. When she spoke, it was in a near whisper. Try as she might, she could not keep the tremble from it. “Um, reckless things, like riding motorbikes and cliff diving. _That_ was why I jumped off the cliff. That’s what Alice saw. I wasn’t suicidal, but I know that it’s not the kind of thing someone with a healthy sense of self-worth does—or what someone who cares about their family and loved ones does. And . . . I know it was stupid. ”

When she dared to look at him, he was staring at her, his eyes wide. His expression was still unreadable, but the hand clenching the wheel gripped it just as tightly as before. While she watched him, she saw his eyes blink and knew instinctively that he had done it for her benefit. 

Bella exhaled, this too a shaky effort, as she waited for another harsh reaction from him

“You . . . endangered yourself so that you would hear auditory hallucinations of my voice.” He seemed to be restating it only to himself, but she nodded anyway. 

Her jaw felt very tight, and she knew she was probably gritting her teeth. It sounded so much worse coming from his lips. Her insecurities shrieked their shrill yet silent song. It took so little for a relationship to be broken—particularly one so recently mended. She thought of the final straw between Renee and Charlie and how even she hadn’t been enough to keep them together. Was he finally going to understand how her foolishness had helped begin the domino effect that had led them all to Volterra? Would this be the moment he realized she was too unstable and damaged for him to want her? All her old insecurities came rushing back as she waited. 

“Oh, Bella . . .” He released his grip on the wheel and reached his hand out slowly in her direction as if to touch her cheek. At the last moment, though, he caught himself, withdrawing his hand and laying it in his lap. His brows were furrowed with some strong emotion, and she realized the expression was chillingly familiar. 

_You’re not good for me, Bella._ Her heart began to speed as she feared the worst. She looked down, trying to use her hair to hide the turmoil that must be on her face.

“Please look at me.” Edward’s voice was surprisingly gentle.

She did, and the anguish in his expression almost took her breath away

“There is no way I can adequately express my regret for leaving you and for bringing you to so much harm, nor are there means for me to atone for it.” She watched his eyes search her face. “None. But I promise you that if you allow it, I will try, and I will not stop trying until I succeed. Will you give me that chance?”

Her insecurities ceased their wail. She wasn’t sure what to say to his declaration, but his promise was something she wanted to accept with all her heart. She stared back at him, shaking her head slightly before realizing that a nod was the response he was probably hoping for. When she provided it, his smile lit up his face. She’d been so terrified he was going to leave again, but until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she believed it could happen. It was emotional whiplash, and she was only just finding her footing when he spoke again, this time in a tone that was much gentler and lighter.

“So, just out of curiosity, you’re not planning to resume any of those ‘activities,’ are you?” There was a tiny smirk to accompany his question.

“No,” she said, letting out her breath in relief. He was teasing her! “I’m, um, all over that phase of my teenage years.”

“Hmm,” he said, leaning back in the seat, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye. It was the most playful expression she had seen in a very long time. 

After a few moments and a few steadier beats of her heart, he spoke again. “Well, shall we see if you can finally enter into one of the more traditional phases of teenage life and go shopping?”

Glad to have moved back into the realm of the much more ordinary, Bella nodded. “Sure. Just, um, don’t take this to mean that I _enjoy_ going shopping.”

A few hours later, sitting at a small table in a restaurant adjacent to the mall, Bella felt as if Edward was testing what she’d told him, and she was trying very hard to effect the changes she’d assured him she was trying to make. It was extraordinarily hard. He’d pointed out, quite practically and truthfully, that using her bank or credit card was likely to alert Charlie to her presence in the country before she had a chance to do so herself and then suggested that he pay for her purchases—as a gift. She had sucked back the nearly automatic ‘No’ that was perched on her lips and then breathed out a “Thank you, that would be lovely.” It hadn’t felt lovely. It had felt extremely difficult to accept. And then he’d suggested he take her to lunch.

Edward’s fingers spun the tiny paper umbrella which had garnished her drink, and he eyed her occasionally as she looked around at the decor. “We can go somewhere else if you don’t like this place.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s good. I’m just—”

“Trying very hard. I can tell.” His smile was positively mischievous.

“I still hate shopping,” she finally admitted.

“It’s good to know some things haven’t changed, then,” Edward said, his crooked smile on full display. 

She loved Edward, and she loved his playful side. She just wished she could more easily let go of what was obviously a deeply rooted insecurity about the equity in their relationship. “Yes, I’ll admit, it is.”

“I hope Alice got a glimpse of you shopping,” Edward said. He was still smiling, but she didn’t miss the inherent wistfulness in what he said.

“Why?”

“Because your choices will drive her up the wall and so will the fact that I paid for them.”

Bella smiled with him then but still felt the pang of missing her friend. It was true. Alice would probably be laughing, _after_ she rolled her eyes. Yet, Bella was surprised Edward had even referred to Alice by name. 

“Will it be bad for them?” she asked, forcing herself to look at him as she posed the question. They hadn’t approached this delicate matter yet. 

Edward shook his head. “In the Volturi’s eyes, they joined of their own free will to ransom us. They’ll be treated well. They won’t be forced to be present for . . . communal meals.” His lips seemed tight over the last words.

“You were though,” Bella said. It wasn’t really a question.

His gaze was steady, but he didn’t respond. It was answer enough. 

The waiter arrived, placing Bella’s meal in front of her.

“It serves Aro to keep Alice happy,” Edward said then, “so don’t worry. There will be runways and high fashion to keep her entertained.”

“And Jasper?”

“Keeping Jasper happy keeps Alice happy. They’ll be allowed to house themselves outside of the castle, somewhere private where he can have space.”

For all the guilt she felt, knowing that Alice and Jasper had taken their places, Bella felt relief too. Still, it was hard to turn to her food. 

“They wanted you to have this time, Bella. Don’t feel guilty about enjoying it.”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked.

“Yes.” Edward smiled gently. “You get a wrinkle, right here.” He tapped a spot just above his nose, between his own eyes.

“You don’t need to hear my thoughts, then.”

“Hmm,” he said noncommittally, lifting his chin towards her food.

She ate, watching him scan the room with his eyes. 

“Putting minds to bodies?” she asked.

He nodded.

“You didn’t share any of your theories earlier about why you could hear me last week.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Honestly, we don’t have any, beyond that the venom has affected you. And to be very clear, I’m worried about the way it has already distressed you physically.”

Yes, she could see that. Even walking around the mall, she’d noticed that her breathing was mildly strained, her heart fluttering from the smallest exertion.

“I’ll be very glad when you don’t need it, and I’d like to get to that point as soon as possible.”

“That makes two of us,” she said through a mouthful of lettuce.

“What, licking doesn’t do it for you?” he asked, abruptly playful again.

She at least covered her mouth with her napkin before her laughter caught her by surprise. She wasn’t sure if she was amused more by the shock of such a remark coming from Edward or if she just welcomed the chance at some humor after so many days of illness and dramatic revelations. Whatever the reason, she was grateful for a moment of levity. “Oh my god, I’ve missed laughing so much.”

“Don’t tell Emmett that. He’s been holding it all in for your benefit.”

How well she could imagine. And here she paused, relishing this companionable time between them, refusing to give entrance to the past or even to the difficulties the next days and weeks would bring, knowing only the lightness of their being together in this one moment. Hovering in her mind’s periphery was the knowledge of her death sentence--her transformation, she corrected herself--and she almost flinched, having it abrade her happier thoughts. As she looked at Edward though, her future as a red-eyed monster became slightly less . . . monstrous. They’d be together. She couldn’t keep the shiver from her skin, but she fought to hold onto the goodness that would be an eternity with Edward.

* * *

A/N for 2020-08-29: Thank you to all of you who leave your reactions to and thoughts on this story in the comments. It's really quite delightful to read them.

As I've mentioned before, I am participating in a fundraiser for Carey Anne Williams, one of our own Twilight Fandom authors. She has been dealing with the profound and lingering effects of Covid-19, and after six months of hospitalization, finally went home this week. Her recovery is by no means complete, and given the extent of her hospitalization in the US, her medical bills will be significant.

So, want to help? Wondering how this works? Well, if you want to chat with yours truly in a Zoom meeting, I'm scheduled for this coming September 5 at 8 PM Central time (US). The organizers are asking people to make a minimum $5 donation for participating. The link to Carey Anne's go-fund-me page is here:

[https://www.gofundme.com/f/to-help-carey-recovers-from-covid?utm&fbclid=IwAR11SmN0AMumdxqK44TW8nSEqO1vAgvBrRErce_i2vOu_JZczKQcsfm4Nzc](https://www.gofundme.com/f/to-help-carey-recovers-from-covid?utm&fbclid=IwAR1zQMJC41gEb6muknD6UTQfDIxpdQ1vgDh5f-I4LHK4j0p1sX6ddlVz3RQ)

  * Once the donation is made a receipt or a screenshot needs to be mailed to: Authors4carey@gmail.com
  * Please get your receipt in by 8 p.m. central time, September 4



Finally, my thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for all their work on this chapter, which went through several renovations along the way. 

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	34. Where they have to take you in

With her purchases of a few days ago stowed in the Volvo’s trunk, Bella was on her way home, Edward at the wheel. They were ten minutes past Discovery Bay and several hours into their journey towards Forks when looking out into the clear view of the bay, Bella said, “Can you pull over?”

“Do you need something?” Edward asked.

“Just some air,” she said, trying to smile and then letting her features relax. She’d been trying to break herself of the habit of concealing her true feelings. It hadn’t been safe to be honest about such things near Demetri, and now it was almost natural to smother any emotion with a fake smile and an “I’m fine.” It was not an easy habit to break.

But she wasn’t fine at the moment, and she wasn’t sure what she needed. Yet, she did know that she wanted to hear the ocean she’d so come to love after living near La Push.

Edward pulled off to the shoulder, the water a distant and dull sound against the infrequent rumble of traffic. 

Bella stood by the guardrail and stared out towards the waves, straining for the familiar, watery song. It was there but weak and faint, not like the feisty roar she’d become accustomed to further out on the peninsula.

A roar. She huffed out a breath at her description. Most people referred to ocean sounds as that—a “dull roar.” She’d seen the depiction in books many times, but it wasn’t accurate. It was, if one listened carefully enough, a song. 

The last of several cars whizzed by, leaving silence in their wake. And there it was, the soft boom of a wave starting its melody. Bella closed her eyes, hands on the guardrail, focusing her attention on what she knew would be the hiss of bubbles on the shore, the slow and achromatic lift of the soprano notes pulling the drowned-out altos and baritones behind them.

She didn’t have to turn or open her eyes to know that Edward stood slightly behind and beside her. She trusted him to leave her to this private ritual.

For it was a ritual, this listening. A stilling of discord inside herself that needed silencing so order could be heard. The tethering of oneself to the place called home. 

Home. 

She wiped at her now teary eyes. She would soon see Charlie, and she hoped, Jacob, people she loved. That she loved them was clear. What her reception from them would be was far less certain.

“Are you nervous?” Edward finally asked.

How her heart betrayed everything she felt. The revelation by her body of all her feelings was something she’d have preferred to have left in Volterra.

Part of her wished it was that easy to read Edward.

“Yes, about going home,” she replied.

“Well, it’s the place that when you have to go there, they have to take you in,” he said, quoting Frost. “He wasn’t wrong. I don’t think anyone is going to be anything but happy to see you.”

The weak smile returned to her lips. Maybe. She wasn’t so sure. Charlie had been so relieved on the phone, but relief was often the precursor to anger. She knew that well, too.

The baritones and altos were warbling again, lost between the boom of fresh waves and overwhelmed by the hiss of the high voices bubbling into the sand and rocks. She felt a surge of empathy for those inner registers, so ruthlessly ruled by the percussive beatings of the ocean tides. The large swells overwhelmed the lighter voices, only ever directed by the pull of the moon. This lunar mistress was partially visible now, a pale orb against the less pale sky.

And though it was only the sounds of this ocean that had touched her, they were cleansing in their own way, beginning to soften the months of gritty fear and anxiety that had gripped her. 

With this natural music in her ears, she let herself think of the few instances she’d heard other melodies in her time in Volterra. A violinist on the street, the opera—she shuddered with that recollection—and then the faint strain of piano notes trailing through the Volturi’s stony hallways. She’d strained to recognize them then, but there was no difficulty now. “Did you play the piano in Volterra?” She blurted out the question, turning to face him.

His eyes widened slightly. “You heard me?”

She shook her head a little, for it was hard to say. “I think so. Was it—?”

“Your lullaby. Yes.” His voice was husky, and she watched him swallow.

 _He couldn’t even think of me there_ , she reminded herself. She could see it was hard for him to acknowledge that grievous memory. Still, he’d tried--and knowing what they’d gone through, she knew how much that meant. 

“Thank you.” She swallowed, too, her voice barely more than a breath.

The corner of his mouth turned up in the beginnings of a crooked grin. This was now, she noted again, not then. Turning her gaze back to the ocean, she pulled in a deep lungful of salty air and exhaled, the scents evoking thoughts of Charlie and Jacob. They were home, and she was ready to be there.

When the turns in the road became more familiar, the unease in Bella’s body became more noticeable. She fidgeted in her seat, hands and legs restless with anxiety.

Edward glanced at her. “Do you want to stop before we get there?”

“No,” she said. “This is going to be difficult. It’s probably better just to get it over with.”

“I was actually wondering if we needed to stop for something else, if you were experiencing any symptoms.”

Ah. “No.” She smiled a little. “These are just plain old my-dad’s-probably-going-to-be-angry-as-hell nerves. I just haven’t had to deal with them in a while.”

“I’m sorry, Bella,” Edward said.

“Yeah, so, um, we’re going with the Canadian story, eh?” She lifted her eyebrows meaningfully. 

She liked the sound of his chuckle.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll consider myself reminded. No more apologies.”

“No more,” she agreed. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to recall the good things that would come with being home. Yes, there would no doubt be Charlie’s anger at her abrupt disappearance or lengthy and relatively unexplained time away, but there would be a Charlie. She would have her dad, for now.

She would be home in her own bed with time to call her own. With friends. 

If she still had friends.

Fearful that any ties to other lives might be considered threats to the Volturi secret, Bella had kept her correspondence to the minimum number of people required. She hadn’t wanted to endanger her family or Jacob, but she had known that not communicating with them was as precarious as not. There would have been too many questions and then inquiries and then—she sighed. It wasn’t something that needed to be thought about anymore.

The highway had become a major road, and soon became the street that led to her house. It was as she had left it, save for the tentative spring leaves now deepened to their summer greens. She emerged from the car, taking another fortifying breath. 

Though she still couldn’t bring herself to take it, she appreciated the hand that Edward extended, which he graciously turned from an invitation to a suggestion that she move ahead of him.

She mounted the stairs one slow step at a time, reminding herself that Charlie was expecting her. On top of her nerves over his potential reaction were her anxieties about how she would handle this reunion. 

Her ruminations were cut short by Charlie flinging open the screen door with a loud, “Bella!” She found herself wrapped in his arms, his very warm and human arms. 

She rasped out a “Dad!” her cheeks wet for a second time that day.

Charlie seemed to struggle with strong emotion, too, his chest expanding and contracting with several deep breaths. It was a long hug, but it ended abruptly with Charlie’s, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Having parked around the side of the house, Edward’s car had been hidden from view, and so apparently had Edward, at least until now.

“Edward helped me get home, Dad, from Italy.”

Charlie’s hand slipped away from her back.

“And by helped, I mean I wouldn’t be here or possibly be alive if he hadn’t.”

Charlie’s gaze snapped from Edward to her, his eyes narrowing.

“Let’s talk inside,” Bella urged quietly.

“Not with him, we won’t.” Charlie gritted his teeth as he said it. 

Edward stepped forward with Bella’s suitcase, putting it within her reach. “Why don’t we talk later?” He eyed her pointedly.

Bella understood that he wouldn’t be far. They’d agreed that he would need to be nearby for purposes medical and contractual, as it were, for the time being. Neither of them expected an impromptu visit from the Volturi, but they weren’t taking any chances on that front.

If looks could kill, Edward would be dead from the glare Charlie directed at him, but he didn’t say anything else to him, picking up Bella’s bag. “Come inside,” he said, his voice soft for Bella. 

Prior to stepping inside, Bella hadn’t really thought about the house itself, or rather its state, but it was hard to ignore now. Several stale-smelling pizza boxes were stacked near the recycling bin, these kept company by a few beer cans and a messy pile of newspapers inside the blue box. Dust bunnies didn’t just lurk but lounged openly on the floor. She tried not to think about in what condition she’d find the kitchen. 

“Sorry, work has been pretty busy lately. I didn’t have a lot of time to clean up—”

“It’s okay, Dad,” she said. Her thoughts strayed, unwanted, to the Volturi’s Lower Order. Did the guard require as much work to keep tidy as humans?

“Have a seat,” Charlie said. He waved a hand towards the couch. It was relatively free of clutter. “Do you want to tell me why Edward Cullen had to help you get home? I mean, if you needed help, why didn’t you call me?”

“It wasn’t exactly the kind of help you could have offered, Dad.” She and the rest of the Cullens had sat down and very carefully plotted out the story she would give to Charlie along with the world that would briefly continue to know her human life.

His face transformed, the one he wore as a cop plain before her. “And what does that mean exactly?”

It wasn’t hard to look nervous. She was a poor liar, and she hoped that Edward’s prediction—or reassurance, rather—about her performance was correct. “I got mixed up with some stuff in Italy. Some bad stuff.”

Charlie sat kitty-corner to her on the recliner, leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees. “What kind of stuff?”

Bella pulled in a breath, deciding to avoid that question for a little while. “I know that I said I’d just gotten home when I called yesterday, and that is true. I haven't been back for long, but I’ve been back for longer than I let you think.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve been receiving treatment for benzodiazepine withdrawal—Xanax.”

She braced herself for the angry exclamations, for swearing. But Charlie did neither. He exhaled, giving a quiet, “Thank God.”

Mildly stunned, Bella stuttered over her next, planned words. “Um, I—”

“Just the Xanax?”

“Uh, yes.” She hadn’t expected this calm response. “Why are you . . . so calm?”

Charlie ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not—well, I am. I just—I’d—your brain goes places when your kid disappears on you. God, Bella, I—” He stood up, pacing towards the fireplace and then walking back, sitting again. “How long have you been in recovery?”

“Just over a week.”

His “ooo-kay” was more air than word. “Where did you get treatment? And how come I haven’t heard about it? You’re still on my insurance —”

This was where things were likely to get sticky. “Dr. Cullen treated me.”

His face became cool. “I see.” His lips twisted a little. “Was he treating Edward, too?”

“No. Edward’s not—Edward’s fine.”

“He didn’t seem to be fine when you left the country.” 

Oh yes; there it was—the anger.

“He was suicidal, Dad.”

It wasn’t quite a begrudging grunt, but it was close enough. His voice was flat with disinterest when he asked, “Is he all right now?”

“Yes.”

“How’d he help you?”

“Well, he got me home, but before that, he made sure that no one would . . . come after me.”

“Do I need to make a call to Interpol?” Charlie asked.

“No, it’s nothing like that. There was no police involvement.”

“Then who did he make sure wouldn’t come after you? And how did he manage that?”

“I think you would call them ‘unscrupulous sorts.’”

“Don’t fuck around with me, Bella. Who and how?”

Charlie didn’t swear easily, and the obscenity threw her a little. She swallowed before continuing. “He paid off some people I owed money to for . . . black market prescriptions, nothing that you need to worry about now.”

“And how the hell did he get the money for that?”

“Edward’s family is wealthy, Dad.” This was true. It didn’t make it any easier to say. Her skin crawled, knowing just how indebted she was to the Cullens. It would be easy to succumb to that sense of insecurity again. 

“How much?” Charlie asked.

“About ten thousand dollars,” Bella said quietly. Edward had given her the number. When she’d questioned the value, he’d assured her that it was accurate. His tone had conveyed a resigned sadness that spoke of familiarity with the squalid ways human lives were so easily traded or sold.

“I can pay that back.”

“No,” Bella said firmly. “I will pay that back, and I’ve already made an agreement with Carlisle to do so.”

As she’d expected, Charlie frowned, but he nodded too.

She listened to Charlie sigh, watching him smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles on his jeans. “You’re here, and you’re okay. I’m really trying to focus on that, but I’m worried. Drug addictions don’t just go away, and people don’t become addicted without reason.”

“They don’t, no. You saw how I was before. I—I didn’t tell you, but I was already taking Xanax when I went to Europe. I meant to stop when my prescription ran out, but everything didn’t just go away even when I saw Edward. Things are much, much better now—”

“Are you two together?”

She nodded, watching him close his eyes and inhale, letting out the breath slowly. 

“He’s not good for you, Bella.”

This was the part of the conversation that she’d dreaded. “I love him, Dad. That’s not changing. Neither will our being together.”

“I don’t want him in my house. You’re always welcome here, Bella. It’s your home. But him?” He shook his head. “You’re eighteen. You’re an adult. Who you’re with is your business, but don’t expect me to help you resume a destructive relationship.”

She opened her mouth to protest but then closed it. There was nothing to be gained in arguing about this. Not now. “I love you, Dad, and I’m really glad to be home. I hope that I—that we—can show you that we are good for each other.” She added “soon” in her head because later wasn’t really an option. 

Charlie pulled her into a second and much more awkward hug. “You have no idea how happy I am to have you back.” She could hear the tears in his voice, which grew gruff as he patted her back, releasing her. “But I should let you go unpack. I’m guessing you’re probably still pretty tired from jetlag and . . . uh, recovery.”

“A bit,” she said. She wasn’t at the moment, but she should be. It was better to play along.

As they both stood, Charlie’s hand swung over to grab her bag. By instinct, Bella flinched, her face tightening with fear. It was only momentary, but Charlie’s glance told her he’d seen it.

It was as if the expression melted off his face. She watched frustration, then confusion, then something she couldn't name move over his features. They stared at each other for what felt like a long time before he spoke. “Bella, honey, I’d never hurt you.”

“I know.” And she knew she’d said it too quickly to be believable. 

But Charlie only eyed her, nodding slowly, carrying her bag upstairs. As she followed him at a distance, she wondered at the wisdom he possessed not to confront her about it and how she hadn’t had the maturity to appreciate that wisdom before.

* * *

A/N for 2020-08-31: School starts next week here in BC with our Corona Virus cases higher than they've been before, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous as heck about returning to my high-school teaching work. The good news for you, dear readers? I channel my anxiety into my writing.

The other good news? I have amazing betas in Chayasara and Eeyorefan12. They are both gracious, insightful, and utterly hilarious with their commentary, and I am very grateful that they give so much time to this story.

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	35. Once you leave home, you can never return

Bella had been right about the state of the kitchen. Charlie had seen her eye it and then waved her away. “I’ll get to cleaning it up tomorrow,” he had said and then took her for dinner at the diner. 

But there was no way Bella was waiting on Charlie to clean up the house. It needed more than one set of hands, and her skin practically crawled, eyeing the months of accumulated messiness and dirt. He’d obviously done some cleaning while she was away, but his standards were nowhere near hers. She frowned, thinking how things hadn’t looked this bad when she’d first arrived in Forks. Her absence had obviously affected him more deeply than she’d expected.

He was buckling on his police duty belt when the knock at the door came. Bella went to push herself up from the kitchen table, but Charlie waved her back down. “I’ll get it. You finish eating.”

She heard his quiet, “Hey, Esme,” and her forehead wrinkled with confusion. He was talking to Edward’s mother as he would a friend.

“That’s super generous of you, but we’ll be fine,” he said, his voice growing closer.

Esme smiled at him, setting down a paper bag on the one empty spot on the counter. “Well, then, maybe Bella and I will just catch up for a bit.”

Charlie turned to Bella, eyes seeking her permission.

“We’re good, Dad. See you after work, okay?”

He glanced at his watch. She knew he was going to be late if he didn’t leave soon. 

Charlie looked at Bella and then at Esme. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

After Charlie left, Bella said, “You and Charlie seem to be on fairly friendly terms.”

“We are, a little. We ran into each other a few times when I was shopping.”

Bella gave Esme a level gaze. “Esme, you know perfectly well that my dad rarely sees the inside of a grocery store. You were totally watching him, weren’t you?”

“I might have wanted to keep an eye on him, yes,” she said, letting her gaze wander around the kitchen.

Bella couldn’t help but follow Esme’s gaze. God, the cobwebs—

“It helped to talk to him,” Esme said softly. “We both missed our children.”

So not just surveillance. “Thank you,” Bella said gently. “I appreciate it.”

“Clearly, though, I should have been keeping a better eye on what was going on _inside_ the house.” She rubbed a finger along the counter, rubbing off the grime that it gathered.

“Yeah, things seem to have slipped a bit more than I expected,” Bella said.

“He hasn’t been spending a lot of time here,” Esme said. “He’s often on the reservation.”

 _Good_ , Bella thought. _At least he’d had company._

“I didn’t want you trying to tackle any of this on your own,” Esme said. 

Given that walking up the stairs too quickly still left her feeling slightly breathless, Bella agreed. “I think I can handle some of this, but I’d really appreciate the help.” Her thoughts drifted to Marcus and Erastus, wondering what they were cleaning. She shook her head. Such thoughts were not helpful. “I’ll get a start on the dishes.”

Bella would have liked to say that they tackled things together, but Esme had more of the cleaning done in minutes than she would have accomplished in the better part of a week. Bella emerged from the still grimy kitchen after an hour, having washed and put away the contents of the sink, to find the remainder of the main floor cleaned and tidied. She suspected that she’d find the upstairs in a similar state if she checked. 

“Um, wow,” she said. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Esme said, smiling. “And you really shouldn't be straining yourself.” The look on her face told Bella that her heart was doing what it really shouldn’t. “Maybe go sit down?”

So Bella did, pen and paper in hand, starting to make a list of groceries she’d need for the week. After seeing what Charlie had been eating, there was no way she was letting him continue with such unhealthy habits. She was determined to make sure he had good food to eat while she was there. Better yet, she would teach him how to cook. The thought of his arteries clogged by the greasy fries the diner served made her frown with worry. He needed to take care of his body.

“Do you need to head to the store?” Esme asked a few minutes later, putting away a bottle of window cleaner.

“Yeah. I was going to take my truck for an inaugural drive.”

“Hmm,” Esme said. 

Bella smiled. Ah, the familiar Cullen commentary on her vehicle of choice.

“I’m not sure it’s been driven in a while, and I imagine it will be quite a large shop you’ll need to do. Perhaps I can give you a hand?”

Bella sighed. She actually enjoyed grocery shopping alone, but Esme was right. Given her physical state, doing it solo might not be wise. “That’d be great. Thanks, Esme.”

Bella showered and changed into what felt like suitable clothing with which to face the small world of Forks. She wondered if she’d run into anyone she knew. Maybe. But most people her age wouldn’t be wandering the aisles of the local Thriftway. 

They strolled at a leisurely pace through the store, Bella picking up the extra items she’d forgotten to add to her list. Her culinary swath was a wide one. She hadn’t been able to cook for months, and she’d missed it. She’d keep her guidelines for Charlie basic, but her own meal plan was ambitious. She wanted to cook like she’d never cooked before. Nearly every recipe she picked was well seasoned with garlic and onions or other fragrant herbs she knew would likely offend sensitive, supernatural noses. She hoped Edward wouldn’t mind.

No, she decided, Edward would not object. While he might have made faces at her food before when asked if he wanted some, he otherwise never commented.

In the aisle that held shampoo, soap, and other personal hygiene products, Bella paused by the section that housed products she hadn’t needed in the last few months. The shot she’d been given would be wearing off soon, and she looked at the many packages, plucking a bag of pads from the shelf. She had no idea when her cycle would return or if it would before—

“Oh my god, Bella?”

Facing the shelf, hearing the voice, Bella cringed. Of all the people to run into, this was the one to guarantee that the entire town of Forks would know of her return within the next few hours.

“Hi, Jessica,” she said, smoothing her features, turning around, and putting the pads into the cart.

Jessica’s hug was fierce and entirely unexpected, and Bella struggled not to noticeably stiffen. “When did you get back?”

“Just yesterday.” Her nose rubbed against Jessica’s hair, heavily scented and stiff with hairspray. She gently extricated herself from Jessica’s embrace, trying not to be too obvious about it. 

“My mom said she heard that you were in Italy? How cool is that! I mean, you missed graduation and everything, but I wish my parents would let me do something like that. Oh, hi, Mrs. Cullen.”

“Hello, Jessica,” Esme said softly.

Jessica looked between the two of them, first at Esme who was clearly in charge of the cart, and then at Bella’s hand which had just released the latest item into the basket. Bella didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what Jessica was thinking.

“So is, um, Edward back, too?”

Nope. No mind reading required.

“Yes, he is.” Esme answered for Bella. She smiled at Jessica in a way that suggested she silence any further inquiry on this topic.

“Are you back for good,” Jessica asked, “or are you heading off on another giant, crazy adventure?” She laughed as if this were an unlikely proposition.

“I’m home for now,” Bella answered.

“We should get going,” Esme said, eyeing the cart. “You probably want to get the frozen things home pretty quickly.”

“Right,” Bella said.

“Call me, okay?” Jessica pressed. “I want to hear all about your time in Italy. It must have been amazing!” WIth a final hug, which Bella half-heartedly reciprocated, Jessica walked away, leaving Esme and Bella to eye each other.

“I hadn’t really thought about what else to say to people beyond what I told Charlie,” she said quietly.

“I’m quite sure your father can help you find a diplomatic way to circumvent any awkward questions,” Esme said, pushing the cart forward, “which will help you establish the cover he needs to know, too.”

Bella paused for a moment to admire Esme’s cunning. Her point was a good one. 

“But people will ask questions that you don’t have answers to, so let me give you a few pointers on how to avoid them.”

The store wasn’t crowded, and as they collected the last few necessities, Bella listened to Esme’s quiet instruction.

“Always stick as close to the truth as possible. You were in Italy studying, which is true. Don’t ever give details unless they’re true because otherwise, you’ll forget them. So it’s okay to say you stayed in a castle. But it’s best if you can make the most general statements. And finally, have a few, safe anecdotes that you can share—something funny, something pretty, and something tastefully sad.”

“Got it. Lying one-oh-one covered.”

Esme turned to Bella, her face serious. “Not that I don’t have a sense of humor, but I’m not joking. You’ll need to know this to blend in. And blending in and not attracting attention to yourself or to us are crucial skills for all of us. Our survival depends on it.”

Bella hadn’t meant to diminish Esme’s advice in any way. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Esme said gently, “but we are under far more scrutiny than we ever have been before. We can’t make mistakes. You can’t make mistakes. It would endanger not only us, but your father, too, and anyone else who’s connected to you in any meaningful way.”

Her heart drummed out a set of arrhythmic beats, and Bella focused on finishing up their shopping trip, silencing her habitual objection when Esme paid for the groceries. She even managed what she felt was a gracious statement of thanks.

WIth the way her heart was beating, she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised to find Edward leaning against his mother’s car, watching them approach. The glare he was directing at Esme could only be described as murderous.

Though his words were silent to her human ears, Bella could tell they were harsh ones by the tightening in his cheeks and lips. 

Esme replied audibly. “I’ll not be lectured on keeping the people I love safe, not after what you put me through.” She eyed him levelly. Her voice was much softer but more urgent when she spoke again. “She needs to be taught.”

Edward eyed his mother for a moment, still frowning, then turned to Bella, speaking gently. “I’ll take you home.”

She thought of Charlie’s refusal to have Edward in the house and glanced at her watch. She was pretty sure they’d be safe.

“He won’t know I’ve been there,” Edward said to Bella.

Of course he would have heard what Charlie had said even though she hadn’t mentioned anything about it when they’d spoken on the phone the night before. 

“Thank you, Esme,” she said, feeling a little awkward about leaving things this way.

“You’re more than welcome,” Esme said. “You’re part of our family. We’ll keep you safe, but I want you to know how to keep yourself safe, too.” She followed Edward around her car to the driver’s side where he opened the door for her. Bella watched Esme put her hand to Edward’s cheek and saw him nod at her before she got into her car to leave. She was relieved to see that his face seemed more relaxed.

Not certain whether she’d been too sick to see it or if Edward and the rest of his family had hidden their fractiousness from her before, Bella didn’t like seeing this state of affairs between the Cullens at all. 

Before she could say anything, Edward took charge of the cart, pushing it towards his car, a few spaces away. As they walked, he said, “I’m afraid word of our being together again will be well spread by the end of the day.” He turned his head slightly to the right.

Bella followed the trajectory of his gaze, catching sight of Jessica Stanley walking diagonally across the parking lot, clearly able to see them.

“Good,” she said. She didn’t like gossip, but she didn’t care who knew about her and Edward. She’d suffered enough to be with the man she loved. The entire world could know, for all she cared. She looked at Edward. “I’m not embarrassed to be with you.”

Edward blinked. “I’m not saying—”

“Good.”

There was a tiny smile on his lips. He understood. “I can’t say I like what she’s thinking though.” His smile became a frown.

Bella shrugged. _Small towns always gossip_ , but she would not be in this small town for long. It was immaterial to her. More important was the state of Edward’s relationship with his family. 

At the house, Edward wouldn't let her help with the groceries beyond giving him instructions on where to put them. When she did attempt to put a few cans away, he eyed her, cocking his head to the side. She knew he was listening to her heartbeat, which was again pattering irregularly, so she sat at the kitchen table, offering direction as needed, finally watching him fold up the last of the reusable bags. 

“You were rather harsh with Esme.”

“I think she was harsher with you. You’ve had enough stress on several fronts. I was . . . surprised she put that burden on you.”

“I’m not a fragile flower, Edward.”

“No, you’re tough as nails, Bella Swan,” he said, sitting across from her and imitating Charlie’s gruff tone.

She laughed. “Seriously, though, she’s right.”

Edward frowned.

“She is. You just don’t like it. You’re . . . chivalrous to the point of being”—she struggled for the right word—“chivalrous.”

He shifted his stance, moving one leg to rest over the other. She had only recently come to appreciate just how human the gesture was and how unnatural it was for him as a vampire. In public, Demetri had been the same, but in private, he had been a statue—an unnerving, terrifying statue. She wondered if her face reflected the direction of her thoughts, how _he_ had displayed the outward appearance of such courtly notions. “Not that I don’t mind some aspects of chivalry, but . . .” 

“But Demetri thought of himself that way.”

She wasn’t surprised Edward had sensed where her thoughts had gone without hearing them, but her hand still froze as it came up to brush her hair away from her face. “Well, Demetri is an ass,” Bella finally said.

“He is definitely that.” 

“You’re nothing like him.” She hoped he didn’t persist in this line of conversation.

“Do you want me to speak with Charlie?” he asked.

Her head jerked up. “About what?”

“About us.”

“No,” she said. “I think that’s something I need to handle.”

“It isn’t a question of your capacity to handle the conversation. It’s more that he has several things he wants to know about me and say to me that I think only I can answer.”

It was not hard to imagine that. 

“I’d like to earn the respect of the man who is the father of the woman I love.”

She let those words sink in before replying. “Well then, I suppose you’d better plan on coming to dinner tonight.”

Edward lifted an eyebrow. “So that he can throw his steak knife at me?”

Bella laughed. “Well, at least by dinner he’ll have put his gun away—and I’m making chicken by the way, not steak.” Inside, though, her stomach churned with nerves. This would not be an easy conversation, but it was one that she wanted to see happen, because Edward was right. She loved him, and she loved her father, and if there was peace to be made before she left, she wanted it achieved.

* * *

A/N for 2020-08-03: The good news is that Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 are still amazing and still going gangbusters on this story, as I am. The bad news: work / teaching stuff is ramping up far faster than expected, so I will be moving to a weekly posting schedule for the time being.

Looking forward to meeting some of you via Zoom on Saturday!

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	36. War & Peace

After starting to assemble the garlic-laden marinade for the chicken, Bella decided it would be better to triple the recipe and use up the large pack of chicken she’d bought. While she was enjoying the process of preparing her own food, she was also realizing just how tired she still was. She wasn’t sure she would be up to cooking like this the next day, and it would be good to have leftovers to freeze for Charlie’s lunches, certainly better than whatever crap he’d been eating. She was seriously tempted to throw out the Hungry-Man dinners she had found in the freezer.

It took the better part of the afternoon to put everything together, but by the time she was done, the chicken was roasting in the oven, the German potato salad was being kept warm, the sauced green beans were finished, and the chocolate cheesecake was cooling in the fridge, helping to keep a six-pack of Charlie’s favourite beer company. If Charlie were to be any way softened via his stomach, Bella had made heroic efforts on that front. Now she just needed a nap before he got home.

Charlie’s “Hey, Bells!” surprised her from the door. “I picked up some—” He stopped as he walked into the kitchen. “Wow, that smells amazing!” In his arms was a large cardboard box full of Chinese food containers. 

“Hi,” Bella said, giving him a hug. “Um, well, I guess we’ll be well fed for the next week.” She peered into the box. She could tell some of her favourites were there. “Dang, I should have called you to let you know I was making dinner.”

Charlie shook his head. “Leftovers are good, if there are any.”

Bella looked at Charlie’s physique. Surely he wasn’t eating _that_ much. She shoved the thought aside, anxious to tell him her news. She figured it was better to get her announcement over with quickly. “So, I’ve invited someone to dinner.”

“Oh?” 

“Yes, um, Edward.”

All of Charlie’s warmth disappeared. “I was pretty damn clear about Edward, Bella.”

“You were. And you were pretty prejudiced, too.” She really didn’t want to pick a fight with Charlie, but she wasn’t going to back down either.

“Prejudiced?” Charlie said, his voice rising slightly. “When he left, he very nearly destroyed you. My God, he left you in the damn woods, lost, so that I had to launch a fricking search party. Have you forgotten that?”

“He didn’t lose me in the woods, Dad. I did that all on my own.”

“Well, he certainly didn’t take care to prevent that, and after—”

“I remember what I was like, after. That was me, not him.”

Charlie snorted. “Because he was _so_ good for you, yes, that you took off to save him, no matter the cost to yourself—”

“He was suicidal, Dad. ”

“Yes, he sounds like a tremendously stable person to have in a recovering drug addict’s life.”

“I love him. I saved him, and he saved me. And for the record, one major depressive episode does not make a person unstable. I was depressed for months. Would you call me unstable? ”

“Is it really so awful that I don’t want you in a relationship from which you regularly require saving?”

Bella took a deep breath. She could not deny the truth of his statement. “He’s in my life. I’d like you to have a chance to talk with him. He won’t be here regularly, Dad, if you don’t want that, but I’d like to be able to live my life in my own home—if this is going to be my home.” She hated to imply the threat, but it was true. She and Edward were bound by far more than their own feelings though those alone were enough to join them together.

Charlie eyed her. He was normally a very calm person. He needed to be for his line of work, but she knew her request was testing him in the extreme. She’d just come home, after all, and dropped more than one bombshell in his lap.

“Sure, he can come. We can have a nice friendly catch-up with the Blacks here, too.”

“The Blacks?” Her gut clenched.

“Yeah.” Charlie jerked his head towards the box filled with Chinese food. “I didn’t expect you to do any cooking tonight, but I thought you’d want to see your friend, you know, Jacob? And Billy, who is like family, at least to me.”

Bella gave him a more level look than she felt. “No memory loss on who my friends are, but thanks for the reminder.” She was wondering if Edward needed to come down with a sudden illness. Given what Jacob had told her about the natural enmity between vampires and werewolves, she didn’t want to put them together at her dinner table. Her heart began to race, envisioning violent altercations. God, she hadn’t even talked to Jacob yet. There were things he needed to know that she hadn’t been able to put in her letter— 

“Did something happen with you and Jake?” Charlie asked, his voice soft.

“He didn’t write me back,” Bella said, “but we didn’t exactly part on the best terms.”

“What do you mean?”

She bit her lip. She wasn’t sure if Charlie was supposed to know that Jacob had been there when she decided to leave.

The rumble of a familiar engine saved her from having to reply. “Well, that’s them, so I guess now’s your time to patch things up or figure stuff out.”

Double shit.

She glanced at her watch. It was half past five. Edward was due at six. Would there even be time to call him, or would he know, seeing as he was likely nearby? Possibly not—

“Hello!” came Billy’s cheerful voice. There was a rapping on the door.

“Coming!” Charlie called back.

Bella closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then stepped out of the kitchen to face the Blacks.

Jacob didn’t even bother with a hello, but like Charlie had the day before, wrapped her up in a bear hug. He whispered, “I thought you were dead.”

“Hi. I wrote to you. Dead people don’t do that,” she whispered, pulling back awkwardly from his embrace. Most of her discomfort was from the proximity of his body, but the rest was from the smell. It was like hugging a furnace . . . a really foul-smelling furnace. 

When Jacob released Bella, it seemed that he had the same olfactory opinion of her, his nose wrinkled in distaste. His head swivelled, gaze scanning the house’s interior.

Yes, he would smell that Esme had been here. She recalled how he’d reacted to Alice’s scent outside Bella’s house months ago. 

“Welcome home, Bella. Glad to have you back.” Billy’s smile was genuine though its corners wilted when he caught the look on Jacob’s face. He recovered his composure quickly. “Geez, Charlie, talk about putting the girl to work. The place looks great, though. You must’ve busted a gut to get the place cleaned up after this slob has been slacking the last three months.” Billy thumped Charlie on the back with his hand.

Her father had never been very attentive to the house’s cleanliness or lack thereof, but now Charlie’s eyes widened, taking in the space. He looked horrified. “Bella—”

Before he could speak, Bella spared him the guilt. “Esme came by and did a lot of work. It wasn’t much with the two of us.”

“Still,” Charlie said, “you shouldn’t have taken on so much, plus the cooking.”

“I think Bella can handle some housecleaning, Charlie. She doesn’t look like she’s about to fall apart on you. C’mon, let’s let the kids catch up. You and I have a game to watch.”

“Why don’t we go sit outside?” Jacob suggested. He lifted his chin towards the back yard.

“Sure,” Bella said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She eyed the table, which she’d set for three. “Just one second.” She walked to the silverware drawer and pulled out two more place settings, putting them on the counter for when she returned from talking with Jacob. Jacob’s gaze followed her and then returned quickly to her face. “You expecting someone else?”

“Oh yeah,” Charlie said, coming out of the kitchen with two beers, “Edward Cullen’s joining us for dinner.”

Bella’s face flushed.

Jacob looked like he wanted to snap something in half.

Bella could relate. “Let’s talk outside,” she said and then marched towards the back door, not caring that it slammed behind her.

When Jacob emerged from the house, his voice was soft and low. “I wasn’t joking about thinking you were dead.”

“I’m obviously alive. I’d kinda thought you would have gotten that when I wrote to you. Several times. You know, the letters I sent that you never acknowledged?”

“Sorry, I didn't want to have my letters read by your dead boyfriend.”

This was not how she’d hoped to be reunited with her best friend. “He’s . . .” There was no point in fighting with Jacob over this. She didn’t _want_ to argue with him. “It wasn’t . . . like that while I was gone.”

“Then what was it like living with a vampire? Every letter reeked of it.”

Her eyes watered. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him _everything_. Instead, she shook her head. She couldn’t handle crying in front of him.

“I didn’t expect to have to stay,” she said.

“Then why did you?”

“It wasn’t her choice,” Edward said. He stood some ten feet away, downwind of them, and Jacob jumped up from the lounger where he had just settled himself. His body seemed to have grown even more in the months she’d been away, and now its significant mass was coiled in readiness.

In contrast, Edward remained perfectly still, only his eyes moving between Bella and Jacob, who were only feet apart. His head was tilted slightly in his familiar listening pose. 

“It wasn’t mine either, and no, no one tried to change her,” he said, clearly answering a thought from Jacob. 

“Stop talking,” Bella said, not sure how much more Edward would disclose. Had he already said too much? Did Jacob remember being told about Edward’s gift?

Jacob looked to Bella, his eyebrows nudged together. “So, I guess the mindreading part is true. How about the rest?”

Bella clamped her jaw shut, fighting her frustration with Edward. This was _her_ story to tell. And Jake was _her_ friend. Why had Edward even chosen to appear right now? Regardless, the cat was out of the bag, at least on these two points. She nodded curtly. 

“Bella,” Edward said, his voice still conveying that even and calm cadence, “would you mind stepping away from Jacob, either towards the treeline or inside the house?”

The hair rose on the back of her neck as she recalled what Jacob had told her. Would they fight? Was it that simple, their being together equalled a fight, like with Laurent?

“No,” she said. “I’m not leaving you two alone.”

“You don’t need to leave us alone, but I’d prefer if you were farther away from Jacob. He’s not fully in control right now.”

“My control is just fine,” Jacob said, though the inflection with which he produced the words belied this. 

Edward looked pointedly at Jacob’s trembling hand, Bella’s gaze following.

Jacob balled the offending appendage into a fist, but Bella had seen the cause of Edward’s concern. Her own words from a few days before came back to her as she remembered her apology to him. _I disregarded your feelings about my physical safety._ Was she doing that now?

Looking between the two men in front of her, Bella decided that the evening would offer enough naturally occurring confrontations without her throwing preventable ones into the mix. She loved both of them, each in a different way, and she believed they loved her. There had to be a way to diffuse this situation. 

In deference to Edward’s concern, but not wanting to appear afraid of Jacob, Bella took a couple of steps towards the back door as if she just wanted to return to the house. 

“I should head back inside. I’m sorry you guys are meeting for the first time this way. It wasn’t what I wanted, but we’re kind of stuck with it now. Can we just start over?” She looked at Edward. “Charlie will probably expect you to come to the front door.”

He nodded at this. She couldn’t help thinking he almost looked proud of her. 

To both of them, she said, “Please, this dinner is going to be awkward enough, so could you both just . . . get along?” 

“Sure,” Jacob said, his eyes still riveted on Edward, “whatever you want, Bella.”

Once she had reached the top of the back steps, she saw Edward turn to leave the yard, so she assumed Jacob had calmed down enough to be following her. She turned her mind back to the question of Edward’s abrupt arrival. Still a little rattled by his and Jacob’s tense interaction, she had calmed herself enough to realize Edward would have been nearby, as he’d promised he would be. When she stepped into the kitchen, she went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, popping off the cap and taking a swig.

Charlie chose this moment to wander back into the room, eyes widening. “You—do we really need to have this conversation, given what you just told me yesterday?”

She supposed that drinking alcohol in front of her father was probably not the best move, given her professed recovery from a drug addiction.

“Sorry,” she said. “Wasn’t thinking. Drinking is legal in Italy at a much younger age.” She put the beer down. “I swear I haven’t developed a problem with alcohol. It just—yeah.” She held out the bottle to him. “Here.”

Charlie took the bottle, then picked up a bowl of chips off the counter just as the doorbell rang. 

“I’ll get it,” Bella said.

“No,” Charlie said, putting the items down again and eyeing her. “I think I need to get this one.”

She followed him at a distance, wondering exactly what kind of posturing she’d witness now. Jacob entered through the back door, pausing by her. “Your mind-reading boyfriend is a jerk.”

“Thanks, Jake. It’s great to have you here,” she said stepping away.

She flinched when his hand shot out to grab her arm. “This is the guy that abandoned you, Bella.” His voice was low and urgent. 

She yanked her arm away, her heart thumping wildly just as Charlie opened the door.

Bella’s legs began to ache.

 _Oh no_ , she thought. _Not now. Not now!_ She wasn’t due until tomorrow at the earliest.

“Bella, are you okay?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her eyes met Edward’s over her father’s shoulder. He was engaged in a dangerously quiet conversation with Charlie. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Charlie’s hands rested on the door frame as he leaned forward, blocking Edward’s entrance.

The ache in her legs spread from her calves through her knees to her thighs. _What the hell?_ she thought. It normally moved so slowly. It was as if her withdrawal symptoms had amped themselves up tenfold.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Jake said.

Charlie heard this and turned his head. If he’d planned on holding Edward at the door, he gave up on this now, giving a gruff “Come in” to Edward and then walking quickly towards Bella.

He spoke very quietly. “Do you need to go lie down or do anything else?”

Bella felt like an animal, encircled by predators. The three men were too close. 

“I’ve got your kit in my car,” Edward said.

“What kit?” Jacob asked.

“Jake, go get your dad a fresh beer, okay?” Charlie said.

“He’s fine,” Jake said. “He hasn’t—”

“Just go, son,” Charlie said, dismissing him with his words as much as with his eyes.

Bella was trying not to let her hands tremble visibly. She tucked them under her thighs, but she was pretty sure the rest of her was shaking. It was hard to tell.

“Why the hell is a kid like you carrying around controlled substances in your car?” Charlie growled at Edward.

“I don’t normally,” Edward replied evenly. “My father asked me to bring it over. He was going to give it to Bella himself when he dropped me off tonight, but he was unexpectedly called to the hospital.”

Charlie looked pulled between disappointment and relief. “Well, I guess you’d better get it, then,” he muttered.

Edward locked eyes with Bella. “I’ll be right back.”

She understood him. He knew what was happening. Whatever the kit was, it was a cover for getting her what her body was really craving.

Charlie smoothed Bella’s hair back from her forehead and then pulled her wrist from under her, frowning as he found her pulse. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

When Edward reappeared, a small black leather kit in hand, Charlie took it from him. “How long since you had anything? Does Dr. Cullen have you on some sort of protocol?” he asked her.

And just as Esme had advised, she answered truthfully. “Usually every forty-eight hours.”

“And how long’s it been?”

“Just under that,” she muttered, gritting her teeth. Her symptoms were becoming unbearable. 

“You sure?” Charlie asked. He unzipped the case and checked the small ampule clipped inside by the syringe. 

“Yes.” She looked at Edward, pleading with her eyes. While he might not have Charlie’s good opinion, he was at least a second source of the same information. If Charlie really doubted them, she wouldn’t put it past him to call Carlisle. 

“It was forty-five hours, precisely. Carlisle asked me for the time when he wrote it in his log,” Edward said.

“Okay,” Charlie said. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

“No,” Bella said. Whatever was in the syringe, she was sure it was safe, but there was no way she was going to let her father see the faded bruises on her arms. 

Charlie lifted his eyebrows. 

“Edward can help me, but I don’t want you to see this, Dad.” She hoped the tremor in her voice was enough to convince him. She didn’t need to manufacture shame. It was naturally there in plentiful amounts.

Some distance away, she saw Jacob watching this drama unfold while Billy seemed to have developed a stiff neck, staring straight ahead at the television. 

“I’d prefer to do this upstairs, privately,” she said. 

Charlie nodded. “I’ll help you upstairs.”

His help was necessary. The dizziness had returned in full force, and she felt like she was drunk, wobbling up each step , then sliding gratefully down to sit on the end of her bed.

“I’m just downstairs if you need anything.” He gave Edward a dark look as he left, purposefully leaving the door open a wide crack.

“What’s in that?” she asked as Edward opened the case.

“A vitamin shot.” Edward whispered it so quietly, she almost had to read his lips. He pushed the door closed silently, then filled the syringe. 

“That isn’t what I need right now, Edward.” Her eyes were watering. Why was this happening so quickly?

“I know,” he said. “But this will help, too. Trust me.”

And because she did trust him, she turned her head, wincing in anticipation of the pain. There was only the cold rub of alcohol and then the barest suggestion of a sting.

“How’d you do that without me feeling it?”

“Practice,” he said, “and mind reading. It helps to know when to use a needle. You learn to figure out the cues between the mind and the body. It translates well across patients.”

She’d known he’d gone to medical school, but she didn’t think he’d practiced at all.

His voice dropped to that near-silent whisper again. “Your withdrawal symptoms are pretty strong right now, aren’t they?”

“Intense, and moving really fast.” Her stomach seemed to be threatening a revolt of the most unpleasant kind. 

“I think the treatment will need to be quick then, too.”

That meant that he would have to kiss her. She hated that what Demetri had done forced yet another intimacy on her that she could barely stomach—even though it was Edward, even though she loved him. Some peripheral part of her mind reminded her how grateful she was that it was Edward doing this and not one of the other Cullens.

“I understand.” Her eyes continued to water. 

“I’m sorry, Bella. I know this isn’t what you want.”

“Maybe you should just apply for a Canadian passport,” she muttered.

“Very funny. Already have one.” He chuckled a little before becoming serious again. “Are you ready?” He was half off the bed, poised to lean over her.

She nodded.

His fingers touched her chin, and it was by force of will that she didn’t flinch though her body wanted to. His lips found hers next, and she made her hands be still at her sides so they didn’t try to shove him back as he brushed his tongue inside her lips.

This time, the pleasure that gathered inside felt like it was rolling back and forth in her chest, first knocking against her breastbone and then the back of her ribs. From there the feeling sank, settling into her lower abdomen and finally trailing down her legs. After this most bizarre of kisses continued for a time, the sound of her moan startled her and possibly Edward as he pulled away. But no, he continued his work at her neck, focusing on the area by the lymph nodes.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, sitting down a little ways away from her on the bed.

She blinked at him, abruptly and incredibly distracted by his face. Shades of things she hadn’t perceived before jumped out at her, patches of his skin brighter in one spot than others, the angle of his nose more precise, his eyes a more subtle colour of honey than she’d noticed. Yes, she thought to herself. It was sharper. His eyes were much lighter than the day before. Her gaze swept over the very elegant lines of his face, down to his Adam’s apple, and then to the tiny exposed vee of his chest, where one equally tiny curl of hair suggested the presence of more. The bright clarity seemed to fade here, like the room’s light was dimming slightly. She glanced up at the light fixture, expecting to see it flicker, but it shone steadily.

“Huh,” she began and then stopped there, not sure what came next.

Edward grinned, leaning close to whisper, “Well, you sound a tiny bit stoned.”

Despite herself, she snorted and giggled. “That could make this evening a lot easier.”

“Hmm,” he said.

Did she feel stoned? She certainly felt . . . good. Better. She thought of what had just transpired between them, giggling and snorting again. “This would have been really awkward with another one of your family members.”

It seemed like Edward was humouring her when he forced a smile. She wasn’t so far gone from her senses that she couldn’t recall his reasons for not letting any of them near her. An image of Edward poised to strike in the throne room flickered through her mind. 

“Never mind,” she mumbled, still feeling slightly loopy though it was fading.

Edward glanced towards the door. “Just so you know, Jacob can hear us.”

All her faculties sobered with this statement. “Does he know?” she mouthed.

Edward shook his head, his voice a bare whisper again. “He thinks something like what Charlie does.”

It was more of a relief than she expected. “Okay.” She let herself process this. It was a scant dignity to have this privacy.

Edward glanced at the small black container now open on the bed, laid flat like a book. “I’ll need to teach you how to administer the shots yourself.”

“Why?” The idea was alarming on multiple fronts.

“I don’t think you’ll ever need to be able to administer one to yourself, but you should know how, just in case.”

She exhaled slowly, nerves abating. Yes, it made sense, she supposed, part of establishing a needed cover. She thought of Esme’s words, which led to thoughts of the grocery store and then dinner. Glancing at her watch, she knew her careful work in the kitchen would soon be for naught if no one intervened quickly. “Can someone take the chicken out of the oven?”

Edward smiled. “Jacob’s on it.” His voice lowered again. “But you should lie down for a little, if only for appearance’s sake.” He stood as if to leave.

“You’re not going down there alone.” She thought of how both Charlie and Jacob had acted towards him.

“Yes, I am. I’m going to go and help finish setting the table, which I will do very, very slowly. This will give your father the opportunity he needs to corner me in the kitchen and ask all the awkward questions he wants and say all the things he’s wanted to say for the last few months. Then, I’ll politely suggest he help you come downstairs, because you should eat.”

“That sounds very logical.”

“This will also keep him from worrying about what he thinks is actually going on up here.”

“Which is?”

Edward lifted an eyebrow. 

Right. “Well, he’s kinda on point there,” she said, thinking about the way Edward had kissed her.

Edward bit his lip, suppressing a smile. He whispered, “Charlie's not worried about me _kissing_ you.”

Oh. Even though it was a normal worry for a parent to have, normalcy felt like something as remote from her life as Pluto was to Earth. “You probably should go downstairs, then.” Given the stresses the day had already presented, she didn’t need to add the awkwardness of that particular conversation with her father to her mounting pile of awkwardness that was waiting for her. 

She also didn’t want Jacob to think something was amiss. An abrupt memory of Paul exploding out of himself into his wolf form and then Jacob doing the same flashed in her mind. She acknowledged again to herself why Edward had seemed so concerned in the back yard earlier. Jacob could hear what they were talking about now, but still—he’d been so angry when she’d left for Italy, and he’d been even angrier with Edward tonight. Her heart began to race again.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured Edward, watching him nod and slip out the door.

Even knowing how calm Edward would be and that he would do nothing deliberate to provoke Jacob, Bella struggled to remain in her room, twitching at every unanticipated sound. But all that bubbled up the poorly insulated stairs was the low murmur of men’s voices from which she could pluck no words beyond the occasional name. The sound was soothing, and it occurred to her that she’d missed having such sounds around her in Volterra. While there had been the energy of people at their business in the street, there had not been the regular and peaceful patterns of household conversation floating around her when she read or studied in her room. And with that thought, another realization clicked: Edward’s efforts earlier in the yard had been in the interest of peace, not possessiveness. He’d been giving Jacob time to acclimate to him.

And here she’d been worried it was some mark of . . . what? Jealousy?

How brittle her trust was, she mused, but then again, it was bound to be. Given how spectacularly possessive Demetri had been, she feared the same attitude in other men, even one who loved her but still had a tendency to be overprotective.

When she heard Charlie’s “I’ll go check on her, Jake,” she tried to look like she was resting, but it was difficult. She settled for leaning back against the headboard, legs wrapped in her arms.

“You look way better. How’re you feeling?” 

“Okay, now.”

“Dinner’s ready. It looks amazing, by the way. You really put your all into that. Thank you.”

She smiled. It had felt so good to cook. “I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

It did, and everyone acted as if they were simply joining together for dinner, making appreciative noises at appropriate moments. Bella speculated that the emergence of her withdrawal symptoms had made for something of a truce between the several parties, and for this, she was grateful. There would be tough conversations to come between her and Charlie as well as between her and Jacob. 

After dinner, Bella stood up to begin clearing.

“Take a seat. We’ll get it,” Charlie said. 

She watched with some wonder as all four men stood and cleared the table. Edward winked at her as he carried away the salad bowl.

“I think we’ll call it a night,” Billy said, coming to pause by Bella, whispering as he hugged her. “I’m glad you’re home though.” He dropped his voice even lower to add, “And I’m especially glad that you’re still you.”

It was then that Jacob’s comment made sense. Of course. He’d thought that she—

“Thanks for coming up, Billy,” Charlie said.

“Hard not to like coming here with that kind of cooking. You made some amazing food. Thank you, Bella.” Then he turned and called to Jacob, “C’mon, let’s head out.”

“Bye, Bella,” Jake said. He came to stand close and looked for a moment as if he wanted to repeat the hug from earlier, but he stopped, his gaze flicking towards Edward, standing a few feet away. “See ya around.” 

From her seat at the table, she watched Jacob help his father down the front steps. 

When Charlie came back inside, he came directly to Bella. “You need to see a doctor, pronto. Those symptoms are not normal.”

“Actually, my dad should be home now. He said it was all right if Bella wants to come by anytime,” Edward said.

“That’s kind of your dad, but—”

“I’ll go see him tonight,” Bella said.

“Bella—”

“I think seeing someone tonight would be best, and Carlisle’s familiar with my history.” She thought about how to make this easier for Charlie. “Is my truck working?”

“My mom or I will drive you home,” Edward said.

It was blatantly apparent that Charlie didn’t like Edward taking her, but he couldn’t drive her after he’d been drinking, and he didn’t want her driving herself. She watched him wrestle with the knowledge that she’d be seeing a doctor, albeit with Edward. “Your truck isn’t insured right now, Bells. We can see if it starts up tomorrow and then get new tags on it. But tonight, if you wouldn’t mind, Edward, it would be good for your dad to check her over. Make sure he has a good listen to her heart.”

At the door, it was quiet, and she heard Charlie’s words to Edward. “I haven’t forgiven you for what you did to her, and it will be so much more than my lack of forgiveness you’ll have to contend with if you hurt her again.”

She heard Edward’s reply, too. “I understand.”

And so it was with this tenuous truce between Edward and Charlie that she left her father’s house for the Cullens’, still trying to make sense of the withdrawal symptoms that had arisen so abruptly and figuring out how to make peace next with Jacob Black.

* * *

A/N for 2020-09-11: Many thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for keeping up the good fight on beta-ing this story while I've stuck my head back into my teaching job. For now, Friday will be the posting day for this story.

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	37. Worried Thoughts

“What is that smell?” Rosalie asked, coming to stand by Carlisle’s study door as Edward ushered Bella into the house.

Edward gave Rose a dirty look.

“Don’t look at me like that. It reeks.” Rose stepped closer, sniffing him, wrinkling her nose. Then she leaned towards Bella and pulled back abruptly. “What were you doing, Bella, rolling around near a dead dog?”

Thrown by the blunt commentary, Bella struggled for an appropriate reply. Edward hadn’t said anything. “Um—”

“Leave if it bothers you so much.” Edward growled at Rose.

“Does it really smell that bad?” Bella asked Edward quietly. She lifted her collar to her nose. There was a faint odour from where Jacob had hugged her. He had smelled off, but she’d chalked it up to how he and Billy were always terrible about getting things into the dryer quickly. Their clothing always seemed to have a musty scent.

“It is a very strong and distinct odour, yes,” Carlisle said, but without judgment. He was obviously thinking about something else, his wrinkled forehead evidence of his deliberations. “How long, exactly, did it take for the symptoms to progress?”

“Not long. Maybe five minutes?” she said. 

“Well, I’d be feeling pretty awful if I smelled like that.”

“Rose!” Edward sounded furious. 

“My bathroom and wardrobe are at your disposal, Bella.” Ignoring her brother, Rosalie waved her hand in the direction of her room. “Seriously. Go take a shower.”

“Actually, you should, at least your neck and shoulders.” Edward’s lips turned downwards as he said this.

Carlisle nodded. “I agree. As soon as you can, each time.”

So Bella found herself in Rosalie and Emmett’s palatial bathroom, standing under a rain-head shower, enjoying the heavy water that rushed over her. She washed herself thoroughly, figuring it was better to appease the keener noses where she could. As she scrubbed, she thought about Jacob and what she’d expected from him. Certainly his anger, yes, but his reaction to Edward worried her. She wanted, as much as she could, to make things right between these two men. Jacob had been her best friend, and he’d more than saved her when she’d needed saving.

Yet, it was clear that there was no easy peace to be made between Edward and Jacob. Her disappointment was keen. She loved Edward, and she loved Jacob, too. It grieved her that these two important people in her life seemed so contentious with each other.

At least there had been some marginal ice-thawing between Charlie and Edward, though when she thought about Charlie’s parting words, things still seemed pretty frosty.

Rose’s voice broke Bella’s reverie. “I’ve left some clothes on the counter. Esme’s washing your stuff. She wouldn’t let me burn it.” Rose sighed with this last statement.

Bella laughed. She could at least count on Rose for her unfiltered opinions.

However, her kind feelings towards Rosalie evaporated as soon as she saw the clothing she’d selected for her. Laid out on the bed was a dress. And after months of being forced to wear dresses, Bella utterly loathed them. Still, she felt it would be rude to say anything, and she’d had enough conflict for one evening. Putting on the garment, Bella noted that it was at least an ordinary sort of casual dress, a modest but form-hugging navy blue jersey with long sleeves and a hemline that met her knees. The soft fabric was comfortable.

Dinner had wound up fairly early. It was only just after nine. Charlie wouldn't head to bed until around eleven. She didn’t need to rush and took the extra few minutes to blow-dry her hair, brushing it into a soft style. 

She turned, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked nice, she decided, maybe to the point where some dresses weren’t evil.

Maybe.

But as she walked down the stairs, she caught sight of Edward’s face. The expression there was one that she liked seeing--not leering, just admiring--and it made her feel . . . beautiful. Beautiful in a way that didn’t frighten her. 

“You look lovely,” he said. 

From the living room, Emmett called, “And you don’t stink anymore. Nice work, Swan!”

Either because Rosalie’s comments had already rendered him immune to such provocations, or because he’d learned to tune Emmett out in general, Edward did not react to his brother’s taunting. Yet, after a moment, his eyebrows nudged together.

“What?” Bella asked.

“Emmett just had an interesting theory.”

“It was a joke,” Emmett said, “but it sounds way more impressive when you call it a theory.”

She watched Edward frown, obviously thinking hard. “Well?” she asked, walking beside him towards Carlisle’s study.

“It was fairly soon after Jacob arrived that your symptoms began to progress, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Bella said.

Edward’s frown became more pronounced.

“Edward,” Bella said calmly, “it’s incredibly frustrating when you reply to someone’s thoughts but then don’t tell the rest of us what you’ve heard.”

She watched Carlisle’s microscopic grin form. She wasn’t alone in this opinion. 

“I’m sorry,” Edward said softly. “Emmett was thinking about how obnoxious we find the wolves—”

“That’s not what I was thinking!” Emmett’s voice boomed from the other side of the house.

Edward ignored his brother. “You’ve been exposed to vampire venom. It’s affected you physiologically, and Emmett wondered if the chemistry might make you react to at least the wolf smell in a negative way.”

Now it was Bella’s turn to frown. She thought about Jacob’s musty laundry smell. “What do the pack members smell like to you?”

The reactions between Edward and Carlisle could not be more disparate. Carlisle appeared thoughtful, while Edward’s face wrinkled in disgust. 

“Pungent.” Carlisle’s tone was polite, as it always was. 

“Like a wet, mildewy dog,” Edward said, “after it’s rolled itself in a vat of rotting fish.”

“Mildew?” Bella asked. There’d been other tinges in Jacob’s odour, too, now that she thought about it. Pungent was the right word. “Jacob did smell bad, but I thought it was his laundry.”

Edward and Carlisle eyed each other. “Has there been any other change in your symptoms, Bella? Anything at all, even something small that you might otherwise dismiss?” Carlisle asked.

She thought of how she’d perceived Edward. “After you treated me, it . . . ” She paused, feeling silly. “You seemed clearer, somehow.”

“Just me?” Edward asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Everything did. Sharper, I guess.”

“Like you could see better,” Edward suggested.

Her vision was twenty-twenty, so it wasn’t like there was anything wrong with it, but it had felt improved somehow. “Yes.”

The look between the two men returned, and her gut twisted with anxiety. “What?”

Carlisle nudged a chair forward in invitation and Bella sat down, as did Carlisle, facing her. 

“We don’t know a lot about the effects of venom beyond when it enters the human bloodstream, but given what we do know of that, we’re wondering if it is . . . altering you in some way, at least temporarily.” Carlisle didn’t look happy as he said this. “More importantly, we don’t know what kind of impact that is having on your body. However, given what your reaction was in the presence of a pack member, I’d advise against being near them for the time being.”

Not be near her best friend? In her last months of this life? Her eyes teared up just thinking of it. It was another grief, layered on top of so many others.

“Are you sure?” she finally asked.

“No,” Carlisle said, opening his mouth to say more—

“You’re not a guinea pig,” Edward said, voice firm. “We don’t know, and we aren’t going to experiment.” His words seemed more for Carlisle than her.

Her thoughts were full of Jacob and the potential loss before her. From this, her anger rose. The Volturi would take her human life; they would take her relationship with her father. But they wouldn’t rob her of the chance to say goodbye to her friend—nor would she let a theory rob her of it, either.

“It’s just a theory, then. If it happens the next time I see him, we’ll know it’s more than that.”

“Next time?” Edward asked.

“Yes, next time,” she said, not liking the tone he was taking.

Edward’s jaw tightened. “Bella, these are shapeshifting wolves.”

“I know what they are, and I know what they’re like,” she said evenly. “I spent a lot of time with them while you were gone.”

Although brief, it was a pained expression that flickered in Edward’s features. “Yes. You did.” He hesitated for a moment, clearly struggling with his next words. “But you weren’t having this . . . issue then.” 

_ Am I being selfish? _ Bella thought, suddenly doubting herself. She had hurt Edward so much already, and his point about the venom addiction was something that worried him. But this was Jacob—and Jacob would never hurt her. She had so little time left with her best friend. Not to be able to see him— 

“Edward,” Carlisle said calmly, “perhaps Bella and I could speak alone for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Edward said. He looked to Bella, who nodded at him before he left the room. 

Carlisle cocked his head to the side. She wondered if he was waiting for Edward to be far enough away for them to have some privacy. When he looked at her, his forehead was wrinkled with what she recognized as worry. “Edward is concerned with your health, though he struggles to be tactful in expressing himself about this.”

That was one way of putting it. But Jacob—”Jacob’s my best friend, Carlisle. You’re both asking me to give him up.”

“I’m not asking you to give up your friend, nor is Edward, but I am asking that you put your health first.”

Bella took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not trying to be reckless with my health. It’s just that this is only a theory. It could’ve been the fact that I was stressed, too.”

“That could be the case. Surely, though, you can see it being reasonable not to test this theory too much, given the strain on your heart—and what is at stake.” Carlisle looked toward the doorway through which Edward had left, his expression thoughtful. 

There were so many ways to measure the strain on one’s heart, Bella thought. But Carlisle had a good point. “If it happens again, then yes. I can . . . agree to see Jacob less often.” 

“Perhaps we could discuss ways to minimize the risk, at least until we know that being with your friends is safe for you.”

“Like what?” she asked. She was not sure any solution could please everyone, but she was anxious to hear his ideas. 

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Carlisle said. “But it might be as simple as making sure that one of us is close enough to help, should the need suddenly arise.” His expression and his tone grew more serious. “That could mean that your having an issue if you are visiting the reservation could create some problems unless we can form an understanding with the pack that they will evacuate you immediately should you require it. Or that one of our family would be allowed to cross the treaty line in an emergency.” 

Bella could see the quandary with this suggestion. “But I’ll have to explain why to Jake, which is going to create other problems.”

“Yes,” Carlisle agreed, his tone back to being calm and measured. She supposed her heart rate had picked up again. “It will, but they are not problems about which I want you to worry. If anything, I want you to avoid any stress. We would be happy to negotiate with the pack on your behalf.”

Having to stay away from her best friend after being forced apart for months fell squarely into the stressful category for Bella. 

While she was all for reducing her stress, she wasn’t at all in favour of being excluded from plans that involved her future. Given the treaty between the Cullens and the wolves and the fact that Edward would be required to break that treaty to keep his word to the Volturi, there were going to be other difficult conversations to be had with the Quileutes. “I think I need to be involved in those decisions and discussions, Carlisle. This is my life, and my being changed is because of what I did, ultimately.”

Carlisle leaned back in his chair, fingers weaving together and apart in a practiced doctor-like mannerism. 

A quiet but deliberately audible set of footsteps drew both their gazes to the door.

“Do you know the other pack members well?” Esme asked, coming to sit beside Carlisle. 

“A little,” Bella said.

“Her friendships will make for an easier opening, certainly,” she said to Carlisle.

“Though I’m sure they will soften the beginning of the conversation, I doubt their sociability will have an impact on the ending,” Carlisle said, a sad note in his voice.

No, Bella knew the wolves would be anything but happy about what she would become. But there was nothing to do on that front, and if they attempted to interfere, they risked their lives and the lives of all the people nearby. She thought of the Volturi coming to Forks, coming near the wolves—coming near Charlie.

“If we explain the Volturi to them, surely they’ll understand,” she said. As soon as she said it, she knew it was probably not an easy decision for the Cullens to mention the Volturi. Wasn’t that breaking the cardinal rule for their kind? 

“As I said,” Carlisle said softly, the look on his face confirming her thought, “I don’t want you to  _ worry _ about it. We will find a way.”

Bella shook her head. She wished she could say she was only thinking about it, but it wouldn’t be true. Worry coloured every aspect of her thinking. “I’ll worry about it until it’s taken care of. I’ll need to talk to them.”

“Not without us.” Edward had returned.

“They won’t hurt me.”

“Not intentionally, no. But I saw enough in Jacob’s mind to understand just exactly where a wolf’s good intentions can lead.” With all the seats taken in the small office, he leaned against the wall nearest Bella, arms folded.

Bella thought of Emily and Sam. Yes, she understood why he was fearful. But Jacob had never hurt her, and despite the fear he had always expressed, Edward had never hurt her just by being near her either. A small voice inside her head reminded her that this wasn’t strictly true if she considered the events of her birthday party, but she silenced it and ignored the small stab of guilt for doing so. 

Carlisle studied Bella for a moment, standing up and moving to one of the wall-mounted cabinets. From inside, he pulled out a small vial of pills.

“What are you  _ doing _ ? No!” Edward’s voice sounded positively incredulous—betrayed, even. His facial expression matched his tone.

Carlisle paused, halfway through extending his arm, ready to hand the bottle to Bella. “These are very mild sedatives. They’ll help with sleep, but more importantly, they’ll help with anxiety, of which you have a great deal and with very good cause.” He looked from Bella to Edward again, clearly puzzled by his son’s reaction. Edward had given up his casual pose, pushing off the wall to stand facing his father.

Stuck between them, Bella sat, chewing on her lip. She reminded herself how much she loved Edward and how much he loved her. She reminded herself how frightening it was for him, having her be human and vulnerable. Looking at the pills, she knew they must seem like a loaded gun after what had almost happened in Volterra. She was mildly surprised that Carlisle was offering them until she realized that Edward must have kept the specifics of that awful day to himself. She felt a moment’s gratitude that he had provided her that modicum of dignity, but the fact remained that she was no longer suicidal and had no reason to be. Edward had no justification for trying to exert this level of control now. Even thinking about this made her feel like Demetri’s hand had snaked out of Italy, slithering its cold way around her body— 

“I need to be part of the process, making decisions about my health,” she said, her voice low and quiet, almost shaking. “I will always listen to reasoned arguments, but I need to know that my choices will be respected.”

She moved her gaze around the room, taking in Edward, Carlisle, and Esme’s very still postures. No one challenged her words though there was some silent struggle in Edward’s face. 

“How often do I take them, and how many do I take?” Bella asked Carlisle.

“Just one, as you need, but no more than once every six hours,” Carlisle said. He finished extending his arm so that she could take the plastic vial, but he watched Edward as he did so. 

The small bottle rattled in her hand as she accepted it, glancing at the label before tucking it into her fist. Edward would have heard the medication’s name in his father’s mind, and it was the same type she’d had in Volterra. No wonder he was upset. With her face feeling flushed, she stared at the carpeted floor, waiting for Edward’s challenge. He had to know she wasn’t suicidal. It wasn’t a risk.  _ Please understand _ , she thought. _ Please respect my choices. You’ve already kept that secret for me once, please do it now. _

“Of course, Carlisle will know best.” Edward sounded contrite as he spoke to Bella. “Please excuse my . . . overreaction.”

“Okay,” she said, voice still shaky, her shoulders slumping in relief.

“It’s getting late,” Esme observed. “Did you tell your father when you’d be home?”

Bella glanced at the small clock on the wall. It wasn’t late, per se, but it had been a long day, and she was tired. “I didn’t, but I should get going soon.”

“I’ll take you,” Edward said. 

“Thank you,” Bella said, still not looking at him. They needed to talk, but she was anxious about what the fruit of such a conversation would be.

The rest of the Cullens made quiet goodbyes as she and Edward headed back towards the garage. Bella clutched the pills in her hand. She wasn’t sure where things stood between her and Edward, and really, she wasn’t so sure where things stood with herself. The pills rattled as she walked, and she stared at them as Edward started the car.

“I’m not suicidal,” she said, once they were on the road to her house.

Edward didn’t say anything, but he looked at her as she did him.

“Do you not believe me?” she asked.

“I believe you.” His hands gripped the wheel tightly.

She had more than frightened him with her attempt before, and she considered again what he and Rose had said about vampires not experiencing trauma. “I can give them to Charlie to hold onto. He’ll think it’s because—”

“No,” Edward said softly. One of his hands left the steering wheel, as if to travel towards her. He paused, his hand in midair, then put it back on the wheel. “I trust you, Bella. And I don’t think you should give them to Charlie since a person being treated for a real drug withdrawal shouldn’t have access to them.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way. “Or you can hold onto them. I can tell you if I feel the need to take one.”

He grimaced, shaking his head. “I said I trust you.”

“I don’t doubt your trust, Edward. I just don’t want you to be concerned.”

He rounded the corner of her street, pulling up in front of her house, turning off the ignition. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“But you need to worry about me?”

He smiled and chuckled. “This might come as a great shock, but I’m known to be a bit of a worrier.”

“Terrible shock,” she replied, her own laugh light though still uneasy. She looked at the pills, then twisted off the cap and took one of them out, showing him the single tablet before putting it under her tongue. Then she held out the bottle.

Edward shook his head again. “I trust you.”

She retracted her hand, thinking for a moment about where she would keep them. Edward was right. If her cover story was that she was being treated for an addiction, no doctor in their right mind would prescribe these pills to her. She thought of Charlie’s muted reaction to her disclosure. She’d expected more in the way of fireworks, and she paused, sighing a little as she realized why he’d been so quiet. “He’s either gone through my stuff or is going to, isn’t he?”

“If he has, I can’t tell, but he’s certainly considered it.” 

Bella set the vial down in one of the cupholders. “Then you should hold onto them.”

Edward nodded. His hand flinched on the wheel again.

She thought of what she could offer him, for she wanted to offer him something—offer  _ them _ something—the simple reassurance of touch and trust. “Edward?”

“Yes?”

“Can I touch you?”

Though the interior of the car was dim, enough cloudy light filtered in through the twilight to illuminate his now bright eyes. “Yes,” he said.

Slowly, she extended her hand towards his face, fingers hovering near his hair. They landed in the still silky softness she remembered, trailing down his cheek. She watched his eyes close and his features relax, a quiet, rumbling hum buzzing in his throat. 

The last of the day’s light was gone when her hand slipped away from him.

“I love you,” he said softly.

Her throat was too tight to let words through. She had to swallow twice before she could speak. “I love you, too.”

He walked her to the front door, standing a foot closer than he normally did. “I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

She nodded, understanding. It wouldn't do to have Charlie have to see him again so soon. There had been enough tension in everyone’s evening so far.

“Just say my name and I’ll come,” Edward said. He disappeared then, slipping into the darkness so easily, she had to blink, trying to see exactly where he’d gone.

* * *

A/N for 2020-09-18: Thank goodness it is Friday! And what a week, too - first full week of school, a full week of wildfire smoke and one teacher ready to fall over into the weekend. Looking forward to getting some writing done on this story and not working about marking or school at all. 

As always, my gratitude to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for all that they do. 

A reading recommendation: I just finished reading The Remnants by maembe13 over on FanFiction.net. If you enjoy a good dark tale, then boy is this one for you. It's an AU on Twilight and features Bella and Edward . . . sort of, well, you'll see. Do yourself a favour and go read it. The writing is excellent, the plot structure is captivating, and just when you think you know what's happening, the story surprises you again. It's one of the ones I plan to reread to appreciate all its nuances.

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	38. The good that life gives you

While some parts of their living together fell back into familiar patterns, others did not. Bella was no longer a child, and even though she still lived under Charlie’s roof, he’d been clear that he now regarded her as an adult. Their daily dance around who would do which chores reflected the newness of this potentially more equitable relationship. 

Some things remained definitely less than equitable. Bella noticed that beyond that first night, Charlie hadn’t volunteered to wash the dishes or clear up after meals, and while Bella had missed cooking, she hadn’t missed scrubbing pots, plates, and pans. Though she reminded herself that she wasn’t paying the mortgage, it didn’t increase her enjoyment of the domestic drudgery.

In other respects, Bella could see her father trying very hard with this new stage in their relationship. He didn’t welcome Edward into their home, but he did politely acknowledge Edward’s presence when he was there. Bella felt as if she inhabited no-man’s land every time the two men were under the same roof. Fortunately, that wasn’t often, and Edward timed his visits generally when Charlie was away or asleep rather than present or awake.

Over breakfast, for which Bella made sure she was awake so she could join Charlie, they sipped at their respective coffees, each with a section of the Seattle or local paper. She let Charlie take the local news section while she mulled over the coverage of international events. On the first morning, Charlie had lifted an eyebrow at her newly acquired coffee habit but said nothing, only making a bigger pot the next day. He harumphed over a cup of this beverage now, grumbling something about Seattle.

“What?” Bella asked.

Charlie shook his head. “Seattle,” he said as if this explained his displeasure. He folded the paper back up and plopped it onto the table. “Reading about it makes me glad that I live here. Better folks and living this side of the sound, which reminds me: we have dinner plans tonight. The Blacks have invited us to a big potluck out by the beach.”

“Oh.” Bella’s stomach twisted.

“Don’t you want to go?”

“No, no. That sounds like a lot of fun.” Bella drummed her fingers against the side of her cup, working to keep her face neutral. She could imagine someone who wouldn’t want her to go. Or possibly two someones. Jacob hadn’t returned the two messages she’d left at his house. She wasn’t sure if he was angry with her. “Was it Billy who invited us?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just curious,” she said.

“Hmm,” Charlie said, seemingly distracted by the paper he had just tossed down. “Should I tell him you’re coming? Or do you need to clear it with someone else first?”

Her cheeks warmed, but she kept her voice even. “No, I’ll come.” Given what she and the Cullens had discussed theory-wise, she knew Edward wouldn’t be comfortable with it, but it wasn’t his decision to make. She didn’t like that Charlie was suggesting Edward might be making that choice for her, either. Of course, as she thought of it more, she realized it wasn’t just Edward’s feelings that would be of concern. Just how much “supervision” did the Volturi expect? Could she go? She bit her lip, eyeing Charlie. Would she have to wiggle her way out of this so the Cullens wouldn’t be put in danger?

Charlie glanced up and caught her watching him. His eyes narrowed when he spotted what must have been the indecision on her face. “Bella? You look like you have something on your mind. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Of course, Dad.” 

He held her gaze. “I know you’ve been dealing with a lot and I, well, I just want to make sure that everything’s really okay with you, that you’re not worried about anything or . . . anyone.” 

“Why would you ask?” she said carefully. Where was he going with this?

Charlie shrugged and started fidgeting with his coffee cup, giving it his full attention. “It’s just that, lately, you seem a little, well, uncomfortable around some people. You, uh, flinch sometimes when people move too quick and . . .” He heaved a sigh. “I guess I just want to make sure it’s from what you told me about Italy and that none of that . . . followed you here.” 

Oh. She should have known that Charlie’s well-honed skills of observation were no match for her pathetic attempts to act like her former self. But she hoped his thoughts weren’t straying where she thought they were. If so, that needed to be corrected immediately. 

“Are we talking about Edward, Dad?”

He shrugged and met her gaze again. “I don’t know. Are we?” 

Bella shook her head. “No, we’re not. Edward has been nothing but respectful, and I care for him a lot. And he did save my life.” 

Charlie nodded, still looking unconvinced. “I understand that, but even if that’s true, I hope you don’t think you—owe him anything. Like protecting him if—”

“Dad, no.” Bella said firmly. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how little Charlie trusted Edward, but the idea that he was physically abusing her after what she had truly suffered at someone else’s hands was so ludicrous it was almost laughable.  _ That  _ was a truth Charlie would never know. “That’s not what’s going on. I’m okay and I am safe with Edward. He’s not . . . controlling me, or whatever it is you think is going on.”

Charlie eyed her for a moment longer and was quiet when he spoke again. “Okay. If you say so.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m just . . . lookin’ out for you.”

“I know, Dad.” 

Charlie stood and stretched out his arms with a small groan. “All right. I’ll see you later.”

“Have a good one.”

He came around to her side of the table to give her a hug, which she returned with a contented sigh. She’d missed hugging her dad.

It was only after he left that she realized he’d left his coffee mug and breakfast plate on the table along with his discarded newspaper. She shook her head at the tiny annoyance. It would not be much longer that she had to deal with such things—such little things.  _ Perspective, _ she told herself. After gathering the dishes and filling the sink, she began scrubbing them clean, then rinsing and setting them on the drainboard to dry.

Though she didn’t like washing dishes, the activity had the virtue of occupying her hands and making it easier to think. It had been a couple of days since Edward had administered treatment to her, so she was due today. That would mean that after Edward came by later she should be safe to be on the reservation even if Carlisle’s theory was correct. She tapped her wet fingers on the counter. She would drive herself, just in case she needed to leave early. Charlie would understand that. After her conversation with Carlisle, she didn’t doubt that Edward would stay as close by as he could.

She didn’t like that Edward couldn’t come onto the reservation. Despite the rigid fear her body held onto with his physical touch, it made her nervous to have him far away. Love, craving, revulsion—the contradictory feelings were so strong. She thought of how good it had felt to touch his hair and his cheek and tried to summon that feeling. 

She wanted Edward to be able to touch her in a romantic way—not just clinically—though even as she simply thought of it, a physical shudder went through her frame.

Not yet, then.

She dried her hands. More practically, she considered what she and Charlie could bring to this potluck. No doubt, he’d want to arrive with his usual offerings of pizza and beer. Fine, she thought. She’d make pizza. Grabbing her keys, she got into her truck and went to the store. With a basket on her arm, she wandered the aisles collecting yeast, flour, pine nuts, and olive oil—good olive oil. When she arrived at the produce section, she frowned. Wilted stalks of basil sat in plastic boxes beside pasty-looking tomatoes. The other vegetables appeared similarly dispirited. Ambling towards the cashier, she thought about driving to Port Angeles, but it was hard to justify such a long drive, even for good produce. As she walked by the aisle of cleaning goods and other products, she paused in the spot where she’d last encountered Jessica. This led to thoughts of her other friends. Didn’t Mrs. Weber have a vegetable garden? And it would be really good to see Angela. The Webers lived only a few minutes away. 

Her throat tightened. She hadn’t reached out to any other friends to let them know she was back. She hadn’t really needed to. Mike had called her the day after she’d seen Jessica. He had been kind and chipper—his usual self. From his conversation, she’d understood that Jessica had informed everyone of her return—yes, Edward had been right—and announced that she and Edward were a “thing” again. She’d missed Angela’s call, though, her friend’s soft voice a little timid on the answering machine. Bella wasn’t surprised by this timidity even though she didn’t like it. Of course her friends would think she’d abandoned them—she had. It had been for their own safety.

Surely though, it couldn’t hurt to see them now. She could protect them with the same lie she’d given Charlie. 

She found herself sitting in the Webers’ driveway, hands nervously clutching the truck’s steering wheel. She considered several ways she might start her conversation with Angela. Her truck, though, had spared her the need to announce her presence.

“Bella?” Angela’s voice called from the upstairs deck. “Oh my gosh, that _ is _ you! I’d forgotten how loud your truck is. I’ll be down in just a sec!”

Angela opened the door, looking suddenly nervous herself. “Hi,” she said to Bella.

“Hi,” Bella replied. 

Angela stepped forward, hesitating a bit.

Bella did, too, feeling awkward. Did Angela actually not want to see her?

This mild impasse ended when her friend took one more step and wrapped her in a gentle hug.

Like Charlie’s and even Jacob’s embrace, this one was acceptable, too. It seemed it was only the icy touch of vampires that unsettled her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t write, Ang. I really missed you.” Tears were pricking at her eyes. She wanted so much to tell Angela everything that had happened. 

“I figured there was a really good reason,” Angela said, returning the hug. “I mean, I think I might forget to write to people if I was in Italy.”

Bella wiped at her eyes as the embrace ended, chuckling at Angela’s comment. She had been a gracious friend before, and clearly she intended to carry on in the same way.

Angela’s house was usually a noisy one, so its quietness now was unnerving to Bella. She hadn’t realized how much she’d expected to find it full of people. 

“Mom and Dad took the boys out for the day. I cannot tell you how amazing it is to have the place to myself,” Angela said, sighing. “I’ve been reading on the deck.”

And here Bella was, horning in on her private time. “I’ve totally interrupted you. I’m—”

“Oh no, no—I’m so glad you’re here. And I’m totally glad that we aren’t going to be interrupted by a request to watch or play with trains.”

Bella laughed. Yes, the boys were pretty enamoured of trains. She’d spent her fair share of time hanging out with Angela’s younger siblings before. “If you’re sure.”

“So sure.” Angela squeezed her hand. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Seated in the warm sun on the Weber’s deck in the equally warm company of her friend, it was easy to talk and share what she could of her time away. In fact, it was so easy, she found herself on the verge of sharing with her, too, the entire story she’d given to Charlie. Her well-exercised sense of caution prevailed, and she circled back to the pretty anecdotes she could relay. Most centred around her many hours of coffee-shop observations and interactions with the merchants she’d encountered in Volterra. 

“Well, you didn’t miss much here, that’s for sure,” Angela said. 

“Not even prom?” she asked. It hadn’t been something she’d wanted to attend, but she knew her friends had looked forward to it.

“There were a lot of drunk people. It got pretty tedious, pretty fast.” She shrugged. “But graduation was good. Jessica actually made a decent speech.” She said this with more surprise than she’d obviously intended. “I mean—”

“No, no, I get what you mean,” Bella said, giggling a little. God, it felt so good to laugh.

The sun had risen to its zenith by the time Bella glanced at her watch again. It was getting late, especially if she was going to tackle making pizza. She also didn’t want to entirely deprive Angela of the opportunity for some quiet time in her own home. “I should get going, though.”

“I hope it’s not because you think you’re inconveniencing me,” Angela said. She swept her hair out of her face, tying it up in a ponytail. It was warm. “I’ve missed you, Bella.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Bella said, smiling. She really had. Angela was easy to talk to. “Unlike you, though, I haven’t graduated from high school yet, and I should go get some studying done for my GED and then get started on dinner.” This made her think of her initial reason for visiting, which she’d momentarily forgotten.

“What’s for dinner?” Angela asked.

“Well, if I can buy some fresh basil and tomatoes from someone, maybe pizza?” Bella turned her head in the direction of Angela’s garden.

“Buy,” Angela said, chuckling. “As if my mom would let you pay for anything. Come with me, and we’ll pick some good stuff for your pizza.”

The basil filled the cab of her truck with its heady scent, as did the fresh head of garlic Angela had also pressed on her. A small paper bag of ruby tomatoes kept the rest of her purchases company. It was a short drive, but an increasingly warm one. The cloud cover was creeping back in from the ocean, sealing in the day’s muggy warmth with it.

At home, she changed into a tank top and shorts and then spread her ingredients out over the countertop. Consulting the single dog-eared cookbook in the house, she began measuring the dry ingredients for the pizza. She would need to make several batches of dough, if she hoped to make a dent in the appetites of her and Charlie’s Quileute hosts.

The quiet knock at the door came just as she began adding flour to the frothing mixture of yeast, sugar, and water. Dusting the flour from her hands, she wiped at her forehead, hoping she didn’t look as if she’d fallen into the flour bag.

“Hi,” Edward said, standing on her porch. 

“Hi,” she replied, trying to breathe regularly. The first sight of him was always shocking to her eyes. His natural features were only accentuated by the well-fitted blue shirt and khaki trousers he wore. 

“Is now a bad time?” Edward asked.

She had obviously lingered too long in her staring—it really did take time to acclimate herself to him.

“No!” she said, “I was just—you—you’re just really . . . beautiful.”

Edward chuckled. “Beautiful?”

“And very welcome to be here.” Her cheeks were warm and not from the weather. Before she could embarrass herself further, she turned to walk back towards the kitchen, hearing Edward follow. Though she knew he could make his steps silent, even over her house’s creaky floors, she appreciated that he made them audible for her sake. After months of being surprised by sudden vampiric appearances, it was a relief to know when others approached, Edward included.

“Pizza?” Edward guessed, his gaze taking in the disarray in the kitchen.

“Yes.” Scanning her ingredients, she supposed it was obvious, but part of her wondered if he’d been listening to her conversation with Angela.

He leaned against the farthest section of the countertop, hands in his pockets. “How’s your day been so far?”

“Good,” she said, tipping in the waiting cup of flour, drizzling olive oil on top. She began mixing, watching the ingredients begin to turn from a crumbly texture to a smooth one. “Were you close by?”

She looked up to catch his nod. There was something rueful there. “I try not to listen to your conversations, Bella.”

“I know. I understand.”

He nodded again. His hands slipped from his pockets, resting on the counter behind him.

The dough was stiffer now and much more difficult to stir. 

“Can I help?” he asked.

She thought of who would be eating this food and wondered if they’d be able to smell his scent on it. Would the cooking alter it? She considered how to tactfully address this point, as well as the more important question around Edward’s more practical objections. But what would he object to? Her going because it would keep them physically apart and interfere with his desired supervision? She nearly grimaced at the thought, quickly smoothing her face. Or would he object because, well . . . because he was still bent on being controlling? She reminded herself that Edward had been reasonable about the situation with the sedatives Carlisle had given her, once they had discussed it. She took a deep breath, deciding to approach this the same way: head-on. “Well, I suppose that depends. Do you think Jacob or the other wolves will be able to tell you helped make it?”

She braced herself for various responses: arguments, anger, attempts at control. Her shoulders tensed, hand clutching the wooden spoon tightly.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t done much cooking for wolves.” When she glanced at him, he seemed amused by the idea.

Her grip loosened on the spoon. 

“But, given that Jacob ate the food you prepared,” he continued, “despite your smelling a great deal like me right now, I don’t think it will be an issue.”

“I  _ smell _ like you?” she asked, immediately regretting her tone.

“Well . . .” His shrug was apologetic. 

“Of course. I’m sorry,” she said, dropping the spoon and facing him fully. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” He smiled at her. 

She smelled like him?  _ Makes sense, _ she thought, frowning. How had she not even considered this? Closing her eyes, she sighed a little. In the scope of things that had happened to her in the last few months, this was a small thing to miss.

She opened her eyes again. Edward was in front of her, not being his normally overprotective self and still looking amused.

“So,” she said, cocking her head, “You don’t seem at all bothered about your . . . scent being all over me.”

The mischief now dancing in his eyes was unmistakable. “I can’t say that I am.” 

The tension her body had been holding onto slipped away. Not only was Edward not arguing with her as he had the other night, he was teasing, almost flirting with her. She thought of how she’d been able to touch him, albeit briefly. She hadn’t touched him since that night. Of course, he had to touch her, though she didn’t like to think of what he had to do as any kind of meaningful contact. It was medical when he treated her addiction, too rooted in what Demetri had done to be anything but treatment. She stepped towards him, reaching her hand in the same direction, quickly letting it fall back to her side. She was very sensitive to such touches being permitted or invited.

Edward’s gaze snapped to the movement, and he matched her step so that they were within easy reach of one another.

Recognizing the permission his chosen proximity gave her, she risked brushing the edge of his shirt cuff, hearing him swallow at the touch. Her heart beat steadily, despite the pleasant thrill of gooseflesh that travelled up her arm. With her lightest touch, she traced one of the patterned lines on his shirt to his elbow, his bicep, past the collar and finally to his hair. 

Edward’s moan was a tiny truncated thing. He stood perfectly still as she gently teased the hair just behind his ear. 

At the small of her back, tenuous fingertips pressed her shirt to her skin. “Is this all right?” he asked.

She nodded. The touch became the press of a cool palm. With the lightest pressure, it made small circles there. A gesture of comfort. One that promised to become nothing else.

“I miss you when you’re not here,” she murmured. 

“I miss you too.” Another hand joined the one already at her back.

Slowly, so that she didn’t push her body beyond its limits, she pulled her hand away from his head, bringing it to rest on his shirt front. The thin cotton was buffered by what she could tell was another, thicker shirt beneath. She’d noticed that while he appeared dressed for the warmer weather, he was always clad in several layers, no doubt to insulate her from a temperature that made her shiver, and not because it was cold. Another inch closer and then another, and she rested her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

She wasn’t afraid. She was hugging Edward, and she wasn’t afraid. It was like summiting Everest. She wanted to both squeal aloud in triumph and simply relish the experience, it was so momentous. 

The tiny victory was fleeting. As the chill began to creep from his chest into her fingers, Bella pulled herself back, the stirrings of fear arriving with the falling temperature. 

Keeping her gaze safely on the floor, Bella gave herself the span of five slow breaths. When she looked up again, Edward was eyeing the pizza dough. 

“Why don’t I mix that for you?”

“Sure.” 

Edward followed her instructions, watching her as she showed him how to knead. When she was sure he had the technique mastered, she began the next batch. Their quiet work allowed her to process what had just happened. While she was still thrilled by the physical contact they’d been able to establish, she was also puzzled by his reaction to her news about visiting the Quileutes.

“So, I kind of expected you to freak out about me visiting the reservation tonight,” she said, “for one of several possible reasons.”

Edward didn’t stop kneading the dough, but he gave a rueful smile. “It’s rather miserable to have your choices dictated by others. I’d like to think we could navigate any difficult ones together.”

If the guilt didn’t stab like a knife. And here she was, making a decision that she knew would make life difficult for him. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t say it to make you feel bad, Bella.” He folded the dough over and pressed it back together with his knuckles. Perfect technique. A perfect response to her flailing for independence like a five-year-old. “I’ve made many unilateral decisions on our behalf.”

This was true. He had. Part of her wanted to deny this, to protect his feelings. She had done the same at least once, after all. She bit the inside of her cheek briefly. While it was a difficult habit to break, she needed to stop placating others’ feelings at the expense of the truth. She nodded slowly, thinking of how to at least be gentle moving forward. “I know that my seeing Jacob is . . . difficult for you.”

“Please don’t think of it that way,” he said. “I am concerned for your safety, particularly given our theory, which is still just a theory. But this isn’t about your friendship with Jacob. We’re learning as we go with what’s happened to you and that’s the part which is . . . difficult for me to accept. I will be as close to the treaty line as I can be, though, in case anything does go awry. I trust you to be careful with yourself, and I know they’ve never intentionally hurt you. It appears that it’s only Emily who’s ever suffered for their lack of control.”

He couldn’t possibly know that from only being near Jacob. “How do you know that?”

The dough was now a smooth and perfect ball on which he seemed very focused. “We’ve had to speak with the pack.”

“Why?” Her voice rose on the one word. Carlisle had promised she would be involved in the conversation—

“Each time we return here, our treaty requires that we communicate with each other. It seemed best to do so in person and explain that we will only be here for a short time. We didn’t say why.”

“Okay.” She chastised herself for not being more trusting. Carlisle and Edward had agreed that she would be part of discussions that involved her future but she couldn’t deny that the Quileutes and the Cullens had a long history of which she’d not been a part. She needed to trust them to keep their word. But doing so ran against the grain of what she’d learned in the last months.

“I would like to make sure that your symptoms are well managed before you go tonight just in case there is an . . . adverse reaction.”

Of course. That was perfectly logical. With the pizza dough needing to rise for at least the next hour, Bella supposed now was as good a time as any. She couldn't completely disguise how much she loathed what he had to do, but she worked very hard to keep those feelings as concealed as possible. “Sure,” she said, washing her hands. 

Edward did too, and when he’d dried them, pulled something from his pocket. “Would these help?” he asked. He shook out a pair of gloves and what looked like a long toque—no, Bella corrected herself, a long ski mask.

She burst into laughter. “If we’re robbing a bank, yes.”

He grinned. “Maybe not the ski mask, then.”

Hands at her midsection, she calmed herself enough to speak again. “Thank you. I really do appreciate how much you’re trying to make this easier for me.” She hoped her laughter hadn’t offended him. He was trying so hard to alleviate her unease with what her body needed. She thought again about how glad and grateful she was that it was him doing this and not one of the other Cullens, not only because it would be insanely awkward, but because she was, well, glad it was Edward. She wanted to be close to him, and if she had to acclimatize herself to it for medical reasons, well— 

“It makes it easier for me, too,” Edward said softly.

“Why?”

“I can feel how you react when I touch you. I don’t want to do that to you.”

All humour fled. So much for thinking she’d been fooling anyone. She looked at the mask again.

He grinned a little. “I think it might be hard to wear this now with you laughing at me.”

She chuckled in reply. He had both a sense of humour and a good point. “The gloves could help.”

He put them on and then held out his hand. “Lead the way, Ms. Swan.” he asked.

Tentatively, she put her hand in his, returning the tiny squeeze he gave. “So far so good,” she said. The gloves did make it easier.

“Good,” he said.

And for now, she would take what good life presented her, particularly when it was wrapped up in Edward Cullen.

* * *

A/N for 2020-09-25: Happy Friday, everyone. Hoping this finds you well. School is now in full swing in Vancouver, BC, Canada, but with our new and very accelerated schedule, I've felt about as intelligent as a root vegetable most evenings. Looking forward to the weekend and some rest and writing time.

As always, my thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their *many* hours of work on this story. 

Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	39. Benign Duplicity

A/N for 2020-10-02: Many, many thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for all their work on this story. Happy reading, folks

\- Erin

* * *

"Don't be fooled by the packaging," Charlie said, depositing the four unmarked pizza boxes on the large folding table over which Sue Clearwater presided. "Bella made these herself." He looked towards Bella, who shrugged as she blushed. He'd spoken loudly, and all the assembled adults nearby seemed to be staring at her.

"Thanks, Dad," she mumbled under his hearing, feeling like she'd been reduced in age and confidence by a solid third.

After dropping a stack of coolers by the table, Jacob lifted the lid of the topmost pizza box. "Wow. That smells amazing."

Sue smacked away his hand, which was poised to pick up a piece. "And we're leaving them that way until everyone gets here."

"Yes, ma'am," Jake said, lifting his hands in mock surrender, backing away. He grinned and changed course, coming up to greet Bella with a hug. "That's pretty awesome of you to make those. Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said, tensing slightly as she leaned in to return the gesture, bracing for the return of her withdrawal symptoms. She took a tentative sniff as she hugged Jacob. Good grief—the smell really was terrible. As Jacob pulled away, she caught the tail end of his expression—wrinkled nose, scrunched face. It seemed Jacob found her odour as displeasing as she found his, and suddenly Edward's teasing about it in the kitchen earlier made a lot more sense. No wonder he had been amused. Now that Jacob had met Edward, it was clear whose scent was all over her. She knew she should probably be annoyed but couldn't help seeing the humor and a bit of justice in it. After all, even though she and Edward were together, he wasn't welcome here.

Jacob didn't comment on it in any case. "C'mon. Let's ditch the old folks." Jacob winked towards Charlie and Sue, who barely noticed him. "Over here." He jerked his chin towards the water where she could see Sam and Emily along with the other members of the pack.

Following Jacob, Bella struggled a little to match his pace. His face seemed suddenly solemn now that they were away from the other adults. He'd grown so much, he looked almost intimidating.

"So, have you been riding much?" Bella asked, trying to ease into conversation.

"Not really, no." His voice sounded almost sad.

"Why not?"

"Honestly? It reminded me of you." He slowed and then paused by the logs that marked the beginning of the beach. "I mean, when you left with . . . _her_ —"

"Alice?"

"Yeah, her." His distaste was almost more pronounced the second time. "I wasn't sure if you were going to come back alive—human, I mean." He swallowed. "I thought—"

"You thought they'd changed me."

He nodded.

"I'm sorry, Jake." Truly, she was. She knew what it was to worry for someone and not know what had happened to them.

He blew out a breath. "When we came to see you the other night, I wasn't even sure if you would still be you."

"You think I'd come back to my dad if I wasn't?" Her eyebrows lifted.

He shook his head. "Don't mind me. You're home. You're good. You're you." He grinned.

She forced a smile..

"But maybe what they say is true?" Jacob asked.

Her gaze rose to meet his. Had the Cullens said something? She thought of what Edward had shared with Jacob without her consent the night they'd been over for dinner. "And what's that?"

"You can leave home, but you can never come back again. Travel changes you too much."

There was certainly more than one way to be changed, that was for sure. She scanned his face, looking for clues as to what he knew.

"Maybe you outgrew your old friendships?" Jacob asked, looking away.

Ah. It was both relief and pain to think that he'd believed she'd outgrown him, to know that he wasn't referring to anything else. "I could never outgrow you, Jake." She meant it. She watched him take in her words. "God, you haven't become all morose and serious like Sam, have you?"

"Ugh, no." His sunny grin returned.

"Good." Bella elbowed him. "Because I still need someone who accepts me for all my natural awkwardness, despite me being all sophisticated and well-travelled now."

Jacob snorted. "Sophisticated. Sure. At least your cooking skills have improved dramatically. What's up with that?"

"Very funny." She rolled her eyes as they continued walking. "I didn't really get to cook much while I was gone. Call it overcompensating." She thought of the chilly stone castle and her unheated meals therein, shivering.

"You cold?"

"No, I'm fine." The offshore breeze was cool, but it felt good after the muggy day.

Jacob's shrewd gaze rested on her briefly. "C'mon." He reached out, clamping his hand around her wrist and catching her by surprise.

She sniffed in a sharp breath, yanking her hand back while trying to step away. The abrupt and poorly coordinated movement left her floundering for balance, ending with a painful landing on scrabbly bushes and sharp rocks.

Jacob extended his hand warily, which, now that she could anticipate its intent, was much more welcome.

Standing up, she rubbed at her smarting backside. Several scrapes decorated the backs of her thighs.

"You okay?" Jake let go of her hand, looking at her worriedly.

"Yeah. You know, just the regular injury to my dignity."

Jacob patted her on her back, chuckling. "Good to see some things haven't changed." Though he smiled, she noted a suspicious quality in his gaze.

They managed their way down to one of the sandy patches of beach without any further injury. Emily welcomed Bella with a hug, the rest of the pack smiling and waving in greeting. As she scanned the small crowd, she noted that the reaction from Jacob was not unique. There were wrinkled noses from those upwind of her. Briefly, her earlier amusement was tempered by sadness. It was just another reminder of the fact that the man she loved, along with her future family were the mortal enemies of her friends on the reservation—and soon she would be too.

She and Jacob sat at the fire, taking turns tossing in fragments of driftwood, betting on what colour would manifest first as the tiny bits burned up. Jake was right most of the time.

"Clearly, this game is rigged," Bella said, throwing in another piece.

"Possibly," Jacob said. "I might have spent a bit of time doing stuff like this while you were gone, hanging out with these dumbasses." He jerked his thumb towards Quil and Embry.

"Nice, man, thanks!" Quil called back, rolling his eyes and throwing a football to Embry.

Jacob gave him a thumbs up. "So, it goes without saying, I'm pretty glad you're back."

"That's good to know because I was kind of wondering after you didn't return my calls this week."

"I'm sorry about that," he said, lowering his voice and glancing around. "We've, um, just been really busy."

She frowned. "Busy with what? You're done with school, right? Wait, you didn't have to take summer school, did you?" She thought of all the time he'd spent working on their bikes, schoolwork abandoned in their bags.

"No, no," Jacob said. "Pack stuff, you know. Sam likes to keep us on our toes—"

"I wish," Paul said, snorting as he backed up and caught Embry's throw.

Jacob's frown became a scowl.

Paul continued. "That red-headed leech is a pain in the ass, and so are her friends."

Bella's hand froze around the driftwood in her hand. _Victoria?_

Jacob's gaze remained riveted on Paul.

"At least the Cullens are picking up the slack on their end."

"Shut up, Paul," Jacob said.

"Oh relax, Jake. She's fine. She can handle it. Look at her."

Bella did not feel fine. She felt like she was going to vomit.

Jacob moved so fast, the next thing Bella heard was a sickening crunch as Jacob's fist landed on Paul's face. "Shut up," he said again.

Bella scrambled up from the log she'd been leaning against, moving behind it and taking several frightened steps backwards. Quil and Embry each grabbed at Jacob and Paul, bodily separating them as the others ran over to help.

Over the rush of blood thudding in her ears, Bella couldn't hear what they were talking about. Her mind had spun into overdrive. Memories of what James and Demetri had done were flickering through her mind like a horror film, replete with the appropriately remembered physical sensations. _Victoria was still looking for her._

Sam marched Paul away towards the treeline, and Jacob turned to move towards her, making her back up even more.

He stopped. "Maybe you want to sit down?"

She shook her head. She was fighting the desire to run.

"Hey, you're safe. Nothing bad's going to happen to you. There are no vampires here. You know that, right?"

There was no safety. Victoria was in or near Forks, scheming for her death or Edward's, and Demetri was waiting in Italy to take control of her life, mortal or immortal. "No," she said, shaking her head at these fates.

"Can you sit down, please, Bella? You look like you're going to pass out."

She felt like she was about to fall over. To say she sat was generous, though it would be more accurate to say that her legs collapsed as she bent towards the sand. Her hand rose, an admonition against his approach. "Just give me a sec."

"Sure."

Taking several deep breaths, she tried to calm herself, processing what she'd learned and what she was feeling. The Cullens knew that Victoria had returned, and despite everything that Edward had told her that very afternoon, they'd still kept that information from her.

And Victoria was back, coming after her again.

She shuddered, the memory of Demetri's stone-like touch still viscerally fresh. He'd promised gentleness and delivered pain. She could only imagine how much worse Victoria's vengeance would feel.

"I know you don't have a heroin addiction, but I know you're sick."

Had Edward's words this afternoon meant anything at all? The nausea now brewing in her gut had nothing to do with her addiction.

"What happened to you, Bella?" Jacob asked. "Your boyfriend and his dad talked to me and Sam. They said you were sick and that it was important that you not be stressed, but . . ."

"I really don't want to talk about it." How could Edward have said more to Jacob—God, to _all_ the wolves?

"Bella?" Jacob said her name softly, taking a couple of steps closer to where she sat on the sand.

"He didn't tell me about Victoria," she murmured.

"I kinda get why," Jacob said, looking down at her with concern.

She glared at him though not for long. She only had so much energy to muster for the sense of betrayal she was feeling. And betrayal was the right word. She'd thought things were different with Edward now. A tiny part of her fought for calm, to provide space for some very reasonable explanation that evaded her in the moment. This effort was too much for her. She was angry. He'd promised that he would stop trying to control her, and then he kept this crucial information from her?

"They're not staying very long, Bella," Jacob said. He sounded like he was disclosing a secret.

"I know," she said, still trying to get a handle on her anger.

Jacob eyed her. "Do you know why?" There was an edge to his voice. He didn't know.

She swore silently. This was not a line of inquiry that was safe for him to pursue. She thought of the lie that Edward had told her when he'd left the previous fall. "They're pushing it for the ages they're supposed to be."

"Then why are they back?"

"They brought me home."

Jacob's jaw tightened, the muscles flexing like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Moving carefully, he knelt down beside her. "You're going to leave with them, aren't you?"

"To college, yes." The groundwork for the lie was already laid with Charlie.

Jake studied her for a moment before he nodded. "Sure." He seemed to be chewing on his cheek. Very clearly he didn't believe her, and when he spoke again, it was in a slow and measured voice. "I get that there are secrets, Bella. Just don't make it a really big list between us, okay?"

She nodded. It would not serve to engage with Jacob's suspicions, at least not until she'd figured out what the hell was going on with the Cullens. She'd had her fill of deceit for a lifetime, and the realization that she would spend immortality breathing and sometimes perpetrating so many more lies, no matter how necessary they might be, made her want to crawl out of her skin.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	40. Declarations of Independence

Bella flexed her fingers over the steering wheel of her truck, palming the wheel to the right to match the bend in the road. With the potluck over, it would be a solid thirty-minute drive from the reservation to the Cullens’ house, time enough in which to calmly enumerate to herself the reasons for this late evening visit.

One: Victoria was still looking to hurt her or Edward or both of them through each other. The Cullens were aware of this, as were the wolves. The Cullens had asked that this information be kept from her. It was deceit. She wondered if they would quibble over what type—omission or commission.

Two: The Cullens had told the wolves that she was ill, without asking her permission. Yet another violation of her privacy, of herself.

Three: Edward had, only earlier today, told her that he’d realized how controlling he’d been before and implied that he planned to behave differently. Yet it appeared that even as he’d said it, he had already made a stunningly unilateral decision on her behalf. No one was more patently aware than Edward of how she’d spent the last few months being puppeted by a monster who had allowed her no autonomy. Could he not see at least _some_ parallels to his own behavior now?

Forcing herself to remain calm, she pulled over once she was sure she was past the treaty line. Edward would be following her now. There was no way he would ignore her stopping, and she was done pretending that she was alone or—she took a deep breath. Putting the gear in park, she said with something like a growl, “You may as well get in.”

When Edward emerged from the woods, his body was briefly shadowed and illuminated by the flash of headlights. He climbed in silently, the smile falling from his lips as he eyed her with concern. She was sure he could hear her heart galloping in her chest, but she knew her demeanor was probably more alarming. 

“Are you all right, Bella?”

She nodded once but then remained quiet for the remainder of the drive to the Cullens’ home. She had no idea what he was thinking but was grateful the same could be said for him about her. _Let him wonder._

“We need to talk,” she said as she pulled up in front of the house, turning off the ignition and shutting the truck door gently. It seemed unfair to her vehicle to use it to take out her frustrations with the Cullens.

“Of course.” Though he sounded calm, she could see his brows pinched together with worry. 

Despite her justifiable maelstrom of feelings, Bella didn’t like to see him worry for several reasons. First, he’d suffered enough—they both had. Second, it had the power to sway her resolution. _Be calm_ , she told herself. _And be strong._ She could not let her feelings for Edward keep her from getting answers tonight. She saw no other way to shift these unhealthy patterns of behavior in the right direction. 

She walked past him towards the front door, pushing it open and resisting the urge to smack it into the wall. Yes, she was frustrated on top of everything else, but betrayal was still the word for her feelings overall. Even so, she badly wanted to imagine that some of the Cullens were innocent of the things she’d itemized on her drive here. Esme and Rose were the two she thought she could be sure of.

“I’d like to speak with everyone,” she said to the empty living room. She knew Edward was making a wide circle around her, appearing in her peripheral vision. 

He gestured toward the couch.

“I’d rather be standing, thank you.”

Emmett blinked into existence beside her, quirking an eyebrow at Edward before dropping himself into an armchair. Edward ignored his brother, his gaze locked on Bella.

The other Cullens arrived by means more expected by human eyes. Rose was notably absent. Bella’s heart sank. She didn’t want to doubt the advocate she’d believed Rose to be, but it was harder now.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, swallowing nervously.

“What would you like to discuss?” Carlisle asked. He sat on the couch beside Esme, leaning forward, his hands clasped together.

Bella let her gaze drift over the room, considering the forked path before her. She could hide in insecurity, or she could speak her mind. For all her resolution, it was still difficult to choose the way she knew she had to go. “I want to know if you consider me to be part of your family.”

“Of course,” Edward said. He sounded offended by the question.

“Carlisle?” she asked, noticing that Emmett had already nodded at her but looked nothing but confused.

“Yes, you are,” Carlisle replied calmly.

“And what does that mean . . . exactly?” She shifted her weight. While she wanted to appear resolute, fatigue and anxiety were physically catching up with her. 

“It means that we’re loyal to each other, that we love each other, and that we protect each other. And above all, we as a family strive to be worthy of that protection.” 

She considered his answer, staring at the floor and struggling to find the loyalty and love in what they’d done. 

“May I ask what’s brought on this question?” Carlisle asked.

Bella focused her gaze on him, not prepared to see whatever she might find in Edward’s eyes. “Jacob Black told me that Victoria is still looking for me, and that you”—she looked around the room, making sure they understood that the word was all-inclusive and not limited to particular individuals—“specifically asked them not to tell me. He also made it clear that he understood I was unwell and not to be stressed. I’m not sure how much he knows, but it was more than I wanted him to know.”

“We should give them some privacy,” Esme said, standing up beside Carlisle as if to leave.

“No,” Bella said. “Please stay. I’ve always known there are no secrets in this family . . . except the ones you keep from me.” It felt like a low blow, but it _was_ true.

Esme’s mouth opened, but Edward’s voice interrupted her attempt to speak. “You’re right, Bella. We did keep that information from you, at my request. It was my choice, and I will explain it.”

Bella’s face flinched, hearing her worst fears confirmed. She scanned the room again. “Is there a reason Rose isn’t here?” Her need for an ally felt greater than ever. 

“She’s staying near your father,” Carlisle said.

“Is he—?”

“We’re being cautious. The wolves will make sure he gets home safely. We’ve coordinated with them so that you and your father are always protected.” Edward seemed so calm relaying this information, but the revelation of yet more she didn’t know about what the Cullens were doing felt like another attack on her dignity.

Despite her resolve to remain calm, her heart began to thud loudly in her ears. “I’m trying very hard to reconcile what Carlisle has just said about what being family means with what you said this afternoon and with what I learned from Jake.”

Edward looked to his other family members and then back at Bella. “I asked them to delay telling you about Victoria but only until we knew more.” 

“Why? And until when? What possible extra information could make the fact that she wants to kill me—or you— better in _any_ way?”

“Bella, what can _you_ really do about Victoria?” Edward asked softly.

“Edward.” Esme’s use of his name was a blatant reproach. 

Edward glanced at his mother, his expression calm but his tone unapologetic when he responded. “It’s a fair question.” He turned back to Bella. “What can you do about Victoria? If she were standing outside in the yard right now, what would you do?”

Bella shook her head. “That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it? What good is the information the wolves gave to you—beyond frightening and worrying you?”

“I am not some incapable, fragile, useless girl unable to contribute to possible solutions,” she said.

“And what would those contributions be?” Edward asked. When she didn’t answer immediately, he went on. “You asked us if we consider you a member of this family, and the answer is an unqualified yes. But just as with any family, we have individual strengths and weaknesses, and we balance those as best we can. I could not see, and no one here could provide a reason why you should be immediately and unnecessarily tortured by possible problems to which there were no obvious solutions. The fact that you are ill is a complicating factor which requires an even greater level of mindfulness on all our parts. It . . . ” He hesitated, clearly reluctant to say whatever else he was about to.

“What?” she demanded.

He held her gaze as he said, “It puts everyone at greater risk.” 

The idea that he was blaming her medical issues, over which she had no control, for putting others in danger seemed grossly unfair, and she lashed out to defend herself without thinking. “So what you’re saying is that you consider me to be a weak link. I think you very much underestimate my ability to solve problems that involve vampires, Edward. I’m the one who made it possible for you to kill James.” The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back. She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath from where Esme was sitting, but it might have been her own. Bella had apologized to Edward for the results of her rash behavior then, and yes, it had solved a problem . . . but the cost had been high and could have been much higher. The sudden realization of the price members of this family, herself and Edward included, were paying even now for her latest attempt to solve an issue with other vampires caused her even greater remorse for her hasty comment. 

Edward’s eyes widened slightly, and his jaw tightened. “If that’s a joke, it’s a tasteless one. Our family does not operate by risking each other's lives. But now that you bring that up, I ask again: If Victoria was outside the house right now, what would you do? Would you try to talk to her, reason with her?” He paused a moment, fixing her with a gaze so piercing that she couldn’t look away if she tried. “Would you . . . offer your own life to her to protect our family, Bella?”

And in that moment, all she could see was the image of him back in Volterra as she’d made her unholy bargain and traded away both her life and his. She relived the moment that the man that she loved was held on his knees and helpless in the grip of the guard, Demetri’s hand covering his mouth as Edward’s panicked eyes pleaded with her to take back her offer.

The room had gone completely silent as she remained locked in Edward’s gaze, but the anger she would have expected from him was not there. Instead, she saw something like an apology in his eyes. Whether it was for what he had just asked her or that he knew the memories that would have been dredged up by it didn’t matter. He deserved an answer even though she wasn’t sure what it should be. When he spoke again, there was only gentleness in his voice.

“I don’t say any of this to hurt or shame you—far from it. Everyone in this room, myself most of all, is grateful for what you have done and I . . . we can never repay you.” He paused as his family members murmured agreement before continuing. “It’s just that, Bella, love, you have a history of trying to solve things on your own, and such decisions can have unintended consequences. It is . . . terrifying for me to know that a choice you make could produce a negative outcome from which I can’t protect you. As kindly as I can say this, telling you about Victoria possibly being close was just as much of a risk as _not_ saying anything until we knew what we were dealing with. I cannot afford to be distracted when it comes to you—none of us can. Not only would adding more stress to your system unnecessarily be unconscionable, our being available to you when you need us is paramount. So yes, I asked that this information be delayed in being given to you but not kept indefinitely. That was not my intention.” 

“Bella? May I add something to what Edward has said?”

She was so focused on Edward at that moment that it was jarring to hear Carlisle’s voice. She turned to face him, and he smiled softly at her, still sitting in that relaxed, practiced manner of his that had probably calmed thousands of patients over the years. She knew she was one of them. She nodded at him. “Sure.”

“I would just like to say that as a member of this family, you will _always_ have whatever you need from us. Right now, you are dealing with some things that make you more vulnerable than you would like to be. What we are offering is our support and our protection. You do not have to carry any of this alone. Please let your family stand for you, Bella, until you are no longer struggling. Let us be your strength.”

Bella nodded again, feeling tears prick at her eyes. As upset with the Cullens as she had been when she’d entered the house, there was no denying the sense of love and acceptance she was feeling from them now. She struggled to hold onto the reasons that had brought her here, and her thoughts swirled as she tried to make sense of what Edward had told her, especially when some of it introduced ideas she hadn’t considered before. It was a lot to take in.

Then again, even if he was right about some choices being necessary for her well-being, the fact remained that he had still made decisions that she didn’t think he could explain away. She forced herself to remember the points she had made a list of on the way here, the things she wanted answers to. Carlisle had offered protection on behalf of the family, but as much as she wanted to just wrap herself up in the sense of security it could provide, it still couldn’t justify everything she thought they had done.

“Thank you. I’m grateful for that, but”—she looked at Edward again—“Jacob still knew I was ill. I didn’t tell him that yet. He said you and Carlisle did.” She knew her voice held a note of accusation, and she meant it to. 

Edward nodded, not looking as contrite as she expected. In fact, he didn’t look contrite at all, really. “Ah yes, the wolves. We did provide Jacob and Sam with information about your illness, but it was only after they had approached us about Victoria. It was part of the same conversation, but it must have been shared through that pack mind-link that connects them. It’s my fault for thinking they would be mature enough to manage it.” His words were bitter. 

So he didn’t deny that he’d spoken to them—had told them about her being sick. She wanted to argue with him about the wolves and defend her friends, but her heart was pounding louder and louder in her ears, and it was becoming hard to focus. She wanted to tell him how frustrated she was with what she viewed as his repeated condescension, but she couldn’t seem to form the words, and her skin was prickling, feeling as if it was undulating over her arms. She was so tired. She watched Carlisle’s head turn slowly so that he was looking at Edward.

Edward eyed his father and then looked back at her. “I meant no condescension, Bella. We gave them only the most basic information. We had discussed this with you before, but I knew you hadn’t had a chance to speak with Jacob yet.” 

Though she couldn’t see it moving, her skin felt like a viscous, bubbling fluid, pockets of angry heat making it rise from the rest of her body. _Had_ they talked about this before? She couldn’t remember. All she could think in the moment was about how she’d been controlled for months, and she had less than zero tolerance for any kind of manipulation—

“I’m not trying to ‘manipulate’ you.”

Her face felt flushed and her heart thudded even faster and louder in her ears as she forced out, “But you talked to them about me, and you should have at least told me.” 

Carlisle’s gaze remained on Bella. His foot lifted as if he were poised to move forward.

Edward seemed to blink in slow motion. “You’re right, and I apologize for that.”

 _What?_ Bella stared at him. _Just like that? No argument or suggestion about why he might need to do so again?_

“No, no argument.”

Her eyes widened. “You can—?”

“Hear your thoughts right now? Yes. Carlisle?”

“I think—” Carlisle began.

“That I should lie down.” Bella’s head felt like it was physically spinning. She considered stepping towards the support column in the open room, but at two paces away, knew it was too far. Hands spread out like counterweights, she lowered herself to a kneeling position where all equilibrium melted away. Edward’s hands broke her fall.

Frustration made her cheeks blaze. Did all important declarations have to be punctuated by some fresh and new manifestation of her human frailty? Again she cursed it along with Demetri and her withdrawal. 

“I’m rather fond of your ‘human frailty,’ so maybe leave that off the list of things to curse,” Edward said softly, taking the blanket that Esme handed him, wrapping her up in it.

“I’m not cold,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I know. It’s so I can carry you somewhere more comfortable than the floor.” Edward paused. “Unless you prefer . . .?”

“Somewhere else would be better.” Somewhere else would let her pretend she had not just declared that she didn’t want to be treated like a weakling right before collapsing to the floor.

“No one thinks less of you because of what your body is experiencing, Bella.”

And he could hear her. _Shit_.

“I really wish I couldn’t, considering what it seems to be costing your heart. Carlisle?” There was an urgent edge to his voice this time.

Edward set her down on the couch in Carlisle’s study, then turned to face his father, shaking his head. “Ask _her_.”

“I’d like to give you a sedative,” Carlisle said to Bella, pulling a small box from a cupboard and snapping open a plastic syringe bag.

“For my heart?”

“To calm you down.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand everything that’s happening with your body, but your stress responses have been activated, and your heart . . .” He held the loaded syringe in his hand, thoughts unfinished.

She understood that her heart’s pounding this way was not good. She was also half-waiting for Carlisle to explain the potential side effects for the medication he proposed to give her. 

“It’s fast-acting, will put you to sleep, and may cause you to forget what happens when you’re under its influence,” Edward said quickly in response to her thoughts. “But it will help calm your heart.”

That Edward still seemed to hear everything she was thinking aggravated her even more. _Double-crap._

If her internal commentary bothered him, he said nothing, eyeing Carlisle and his syringe.

“May I administer this?” Carlisle asked. 

“Yes.” Bella turned her head away, eyes shut.

Like Edward, Carlisle was quick and merciful with his needle. When she opened her eyes again, it was to a much darker room, all the summer twilight gone. Her vision slowly cleared, and as she blinked her way into full consciousness, her present moments were much more relaxed than those of the recent past. 

“I’d recommend remaining horizontal,” Edward said. Sitting across from her, he was fidgeting with the crest at his wrist, turning it around and around. As she so often did, she recognized his attempt to appear more relaxed and human around her. 

“Can you still hear me?”

“No.” He stopped moving his hands.

She tried nodding. Good. No dizziness. “How long?”

“Just about an hour. Carlisle gave you a very low dose.”

Expelling a breath, Bella let her head rest against the pillow that had been placed underneath it. “Okay.” She gathered the threads of their last conversation, tying them up into something that made sense. Fresh and powerful feelings seemed to have tangled themselves up in an already complex set of circumstances. 

“I hope you believe I never meant to patronize or coddle you, Bella,” Edward said quietly. “I respect and admire you in all the ways those words can mean. I only asked everyone to wait until we had as complete a picture as possible to present to you. We shared information with the wolves, and they with us as we have always done—as we are required by the treaty to do. Nothing was definite or concrete. But as for telling the wolves you were unwell . . . I’m not going to apologize for that. I’d do it again.”

His words stung, but given what had just happened, she supposed she would need to make peace with the fact that more people knowing about her illness, as it were, was necessary. With the effects of withdrawal now controlled, she could remember more, including the conversations they’d had about informing the pack on keeping her safe.

She nodded again. “I understand,” she whispered. Her throat was tight with many powerful feelings. Tears began again, desperation and guilt making her shake her head.

“What’s wrong?”

They were alone, it appeared, or as alone as one could be in a house of vampires. She tried swallowing and clearing her throat. It remained tightly closed against the words she struggled to voice in contrast to the new clarity of her thoughts. How could she say this? It was so selfish, and while it felt like it was crushing her now, she was sure she could persevere through the challenge. She had to. Given that she’d asked to be treated with the respect the Cullens offered each other, there was no room for such indulgences.

“I suppose you’re still angry with me, Bella, but you needn’t censor yourself to spare my feelings.”

She shook her head. He didn’t need to take on what wasn’t his to feel guilty for. It wasn’t either of their faults. What she was feeling had been building since he had brought her home from Volterra.

“I don’t think I can do it,” she finally said.

Edward looked down, nodding almost to himself. “You don’t think you can forgive me.”

“It’s not that. I understand what you did and why you did it. I love you and . . . I know you all love me. I forgive you, if there’s anything to forgive.” She wiped at her face, trying to right herself more. A fresh wave of spinning made her let her head fall back. She grimaced in frustration.

His eyes were on her again, and they registered his confusion. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t think I can—I’m really struggling with being changed, Edward. Right now it feels . . . unbearable.”

He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers. “And you won’t be if it isn’t what you want.”

She closed her eyes again. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

“No one will compel you, Bella.” 

Opening her eyes and meeting his gaze, she saw the determination in his expression. He inched closer, reaching for an empty part of the blanket, wrapping his hand in it and offering it to her. 

And as much as she struggled to take his hand, worried that his touch would be contaminated with the horror of what the worst of his kind were, she knew the words she had just spoken had been hurtful enough. She swallowed hard as a way of physically pushing down her fear and was successful in laying her hand in his, thankfully unable to feel his chill emanating through the thick fabric.

“You don’t hurt me by refusing this, Bella. I hope you understand that.”

A gentle rap at the door drew her attention. “How’re you feeling?” Carlisle asked, entering with a glass of water. He set this down within her reach before sitting in the room’s other chair.

Her throat still constricted by feeling, Bella shrugged her answer, sitting up in the bed slowly and then sipping at the water. They would hear her heart. There was little more she could tell them that they didn’t already know.

“I think it’s time for that conversation with the wolves,” Edward said. He eyed Carlisle and then Bella again. “It will be one less secret to keep, one less lie between you and your friends.”

Bella did not need to read minds to see the questions on his father’s face, nor did she doubt that there was a whole conversation silently unfurling between them. What had brought Edward to suggest speaking with the wolves now, at this particular moment, she wasn’t sure, but there really was little to be gained by delay. It could only look bad for the Cullens, keeping this from the people with whom they’d made a treaty. She realized anew that while the Cullens had not necessarily honoured the spirit of their agreement with her, they had honored the letter of it. They had not approached the wolves with the information about her change—which was technically the one discussion she knew Edward had promised her would not happen without her presence. The last sting of their perceived betrayal slowly leached away.

Even so, her heart sank. Soliciting the wolves’ agreement would bring her closer to a fate she dreaded. But fate was just that—immutable. It was something inevitable, inescapable. 

“Are you ready for that conversation, Bella?” Carlisle asked, frowning a little.

No. But her feelings were inconsequential on this front. The lives of the entire Cullen family rested on her becoming a vampire, no matter the empty offer of escape that Edward had just made. If she was part of this family, her role was clear: to protect them. Becoming a vampire did so. 

“It’s as good a time as any,” she managed, clearing her throat with the raspy words. It was, and time wouldn't make her feel any readier or lessen the Quileutes’ sense of betrayal.

“Then you should make the call,” Edward said. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. 

She hesitated taking the phone. 

“Jacob will answer,” Edward said, reassuring her.

She didn’t doubt he would. She took the phone, seeing Jacob’s number already on the screen, and pressed send. This small act was the tipping point, the step at the forked path she’d imagined earlier. It was the point after which nothing returned to its former state, including her, and as she lifted the phone to her ear, she thought of how her last remaining days would be known simply by the ones that came after this moment or the ones that came before.

* * *

A/N for 2020-10-09: As always, profound thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their HOURS of editing on this story. I swear they did more work on the story this week than I did. They really are amazing and I'm darn lucky to be able to work with them.

A happy long weekend or Thanksgiving to my Canadian friends. Feel free to toss me your favoured turkey accompaniment or preparation method in the comments, or you know, respond to the story ;-)

\- Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	41. Choices

2020-10-16: beta'd by the amazing Chayasara and Eeyorefan12.

* * *

Sam, Jacob, and Paul made the Cullens' otherwise spacious living room feel small; shortly after they arrived, it turned loud, as well.

"No!" Jacob half yelled. "Sam, this is—!"

Sam held up his hand, the gesture securing silence. The trio of Quileutes stood across from Bella, who was sitting on the couch, Edward and Carlisle a few feet away from her on either side.

"Are you asking for our permission to change her?" Sam asked Carlisle.

" _We_ haven't asked you for anything, but I think Bella has been very clear about her request," Carlisle replied evenly.

"You can't want this," Jacob said to Bella. "Not after what you know about them now, what you've just told us." Though she had skirted the gorier and more intimate details of her time in Volterra, her tone and evasive wording had clearly been sufficient to communicate to the wolves the horror of what she'd endured.

No, she didn't want to be changed, but staying human endangered the Cullens, the Quiluetes, and potentially, every human in Forks, beginning with those closest to her. To capitulate to her own desires would be an act miles beyond selfish.

"Is it what _you_ want, Bella?" Edward asked her, a precise emphasis on each word.

She frowned in confusion. He knew very well it wasn't. What did he possibly hope to accomplish by asking this now? She was a terrible liar, and pressing this point would only reveal the cracks in her very shaky resolve.

"It isn't, is it?" Jacob sounded as if he'd had a revelation, eyes darting between her and Edward.

"Bella?" Edward asked, his neutral expression giving nothing away.

She stared at him with a rising sense of panic. This was not the plan they'd discussed.

"It's not." Jacob spoke more firmly.

"You will not hurt me with any refusal," Edward said, repeating his words from earlier.

He wanted her to speak her mind? This could only confound matters. She eyed him, trying to make sense of why he was pushing her to be honest when it would only hurt their cause.

"No, it isn't," she said. "But it has to happen."

Very quietly, Carlisle spoke. "We protect our family, Bella. The choice _is_ yours, regardless of the promise Edward had to make in Volterra." Carlisle looked perfectly calm, perched on the arm of a couch, hands resting on his lap as if they were discussing the weather.

"Then why are we here," Sam asked, "beyond you asking us to rubber-stamp something you know we'd never approve—and she clearly doesn't want?"

"Because regardless of what Bella decides, you are as much a party to this as we are," Edward said.

"Like hell we are," Jacob said. Sam's lifted eyebrows seemed to express his agreement.

"If we might actually have a few minutes to speak with you privately, I can explain." Edward looked first to Jacob and then Sam.

"With me?" Sam asked.

"Jacob, Bella, and me," Edward said softly. He glanced at Carlisle then, and his father nodded at whatever thought he'd conveyed with that look.

"Jake?" Sam asked.

"Sure." Jake looked to Bella, clearly puzzled.

She wished she had answers for him. Instead, she kept her gaze on the floor, wrestling with her sense of trust and trying to orient it towards Edward. He obviously had something up his sleeve.

"There are some other things I'd like to discuss with you," Carlisle said to Sam, "if you wouldn't mind relocating."

Sam nodded as all three pack members eyed Edward warily. Clearly though, Sam trusted Jacob to handle himself as he and Paul followed Carlisle from the room without any verbal complaint.

Edward stayed perfectly still for several minutes and then spoke abruptly. "If I'm right, and I think I am, Alice can't see us right now."

"Your sister?" Jacob asked.

"Yes. She sees—"

"The future." Jacob finished for him. "I know. Bella told me."

"Of course," Edward said politely, a tiny furrow in his brow. Mentions of that time that marked his absence were obviously still painful. "As Bella just told you all, Alice and her husband stayed behind in Volterra, taking our places. That was what allowed us to leave. I don't think Alice has figured it out yet, but when she first brought Bella to Volterra, she apologized for giving me incomplete information about what we thought was Bella's death. She'd seen her jump from the cliff, but she didn't see what happened afterward, which is why she thought Bella had died. Bella told me that you were there, Jacob, and that you saved her."

"Yeah, I got her out of the water. So?" Jacob said.

Edward nodded. "Many of the times Alice tried to see Bella when we were away, she couldn't. She thought that perhaps it was the same reason I can't hear Bella, but I think it's because of you."

"Just me?" Jacob asked.

Bella watched their exchange with alarmed attention. Edward had mentioned none of this to her, and her eyes widened with each revelation. There was _more_ that he hadn't told her?

"Not just you, but your kind. You seem to . . . block Alice's gifts. I suspect you might deflect other gifts, too, much as Bella does." He turned to Bella. "Demetri couldn't track you, not using his gift, anyway. He had to rely upon more traditional methods."

"Will these Vu—"

"The Volturi," Bella said.

"Will the Volturi come for her if she doesn't return?" Jacob asked.

"Yes," Edward answered. "Without a doubt."

"So if you don't change her, more vampires come." Jacob frowned at the floor.

"Yes, but I might have an idea that could circumvent that . . . for a time." Edward looked to Bella, his eyes clearly seeking something from her. Her forgiveness? Her trust?

Taking a deep breath, she took the figurative leap and nodded.

"If Bella and I were to leave, the Volturi could see and find us. But if one of your pack comes with us, they would have to track us through conventional means, which are easy enough to hide from, given the right amount of planning." He turned to Bella. "I'm sorry. I couldn't risk saying or deciding anything until one of them was here, not without alerting Alice."

She nodded in understanding, her mind reeling with the revelation. He was offering her hope—the thinnest filament of light, but hope, nonetheless.

"For how long?" Jake asked.

"For as long as one of you is willing." Edward's unflinching gaze, landing squarely on Jacob, seemed significant.

"Okay, I'll go," Jacob said.

Bella gasped. "You can't—"

"No." Jacob turned to her. "Otherwise it means you die. Not happening."

Edward spoke up. "If we don't comply with the Volturi's wishes or create a suitably distracting ruse, Bella, Forks will welcome any number of human-drinking vampires coming in search of you. Providing a plausible reason for us to leave the area will draw their focus away from the town here, and using Jacob to hide you should keep you and everyone here safe."

Bella's breathing felt even more ragged. So much rode on Edward's suppositions—and her decision about whether or not to try this.

"How will you create a false trail for your sister to see?" Jacob asked.

"Very simply," Edward said. "All I have to do is decide to take Bella somewhere when we're away from any pack members. If I make it seem as if it's just a little vacation before her change, it shouldn't raise any immediate alarms. When Alice sees that we haven't returned, Aro will be alerted as well and he might send the guard after us. But he will know my family is innocent of any wrongdoing as it was my decision alone. They wouldn't even come here. They'd be headed to some other location I've decided upon to start looking for us. I would choose somewhere remote and sparsely populated."

"You sure that works?" Jacob's arms were folded. Bella recognized his shrewd expression as one she'd seen often on Sam's face.

"There's no doubt she'll see me deciding to travel with Bella. The only question is whether or not we're hidden when we go, but given what I've seen in Alice's thoughts, I think it's almost certain a wolf presence will block her gift. There's also the possibility that the Volturi will not look for us right away. Without Alice being able to see us, they won't actually know if Bella has been changed or not."

Though she could see the possibilities, Bella was focused on one very significant logistical problem. "It would only work as long as you were with us, Jake." There was no question of which wolf she would choose to accompany her, and clearly there wasn't for Jacob either, judging by his response to Edward's plan. But he would need to leave home, as would she and Edward. It would mean that Jacob would never be able to be away from them, at least not as long as they were in hiding. She thought of the hostility that so obviously bristled between the Quileutes and the Cullens; she'd observed it firsthand at the barbecue at her house. How would it be sustainable? How was it in any way justifiable?

"Do you even know how close together we have to be for this to work?" Jacob looked as if he were running figures in his head.

"How close were you when you found her in the water?" Edward asked.

Jacob frowned. "I saw her jump when I was just coming out of the treeline, so maybe . . . half a mile? A little less?"

Edward nodded curtly. "That's workable. My family won't know what's happened until we fail to return, but I fully expect that they'll remain to resolve the other problem we've encountered."

Victoria.

They'd be leaving the Cullens and the wolves to deal with Victoria. Bella's heart felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise.

"I'm not worried about her. I know the pack can deal with a leech, but there is no guarantee that Sam will agree to this plan." Jacob looked to Bella again. "When do the bloodsu . . ."—he glanced at Edward—" _Volturi_ expect you?"

"By early September." Her mouth felt as if it were full of cotton as she spoke, but she hadn't missed Jacob's self-correction, and she was grateful for it.

Jacob huffed and turned back to Edward.

"Agreed," Edward said.

"What?" Bella asked.

"Jacob thinks the Volturi's timing makes a poor birthday present." There was definitely a note of amusement in his voice.

Edward's casual response to Jacob's comment made Bella study him for a moment, and she could see that his features were animated by something like hope or excitement. She saw it in Jacob's expression, too, although he didn't look too thrilled that Edward had shared his snarky thought with her. Poor Jake. She knew how hard Edward worked to keep out of people's heads most of the time for his own sanity as well as theirs, but how could Jacob see it as anything but a complete invasion of his privacy? And that was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to difficulties that could arise.

"There's a small problem with your plan," she said.

"What?" Jacob asked.

"No one asked me if I'm okay with it."

The silence in response to this was truly deafening. Her breathing felt like the loudest thing in the room. "You hate each other." She looked between Edward and Jacob. "You nearly—I don't know what you were about to do the other night, but it wasn't anything good. You're proposing to give up your lives for now so that I can keep my human one, leaving your family to deal with Victoria." She shuddered. "It might work, or it might not. The Volturi could still find us, and you could both wind up dead beside me. Your entire family could die because of this, Edward. Your entire tribe, Jacob."

The negative thoughts kept coming: of Edward, seconds from being torn apart in Volterra and the way her desperation in that moment had driven her to make such an ill-fated decision; of Jacob, even younger than she was but just becoming a man with his whole life ahead of him.

"I don't want you to have to be like me, Bella." Edward's voice was low and urgent. "Not because I don't love you, but because I do." He looked down briefly. "You already know my reasons. More importantly, though, I don't want to see you changed because _you_ don't want it. If it does have to happen, sometime in the future, I want it to be something that you've chosen. I know this plan isn't perfect, but I had hoped to . . . give you time, at least."

"And I just like you better when you won't want to suck the life out of people," Jacob said, arms still folded. "I can figure a lot of stuff out, even getting along with _him_ if it means keeping you, well, you."

She couldn't help noticing the determination in his voice. She also remembered that after their initial meeting, both of the guys had been able to be perfectly civil with each other the rest of that evening. Still, this would be so different. She swallowed hard. "I need to think about it." She didn't really need to think about it. There was no way she could endanger so many people she loved with this kind of recklessness.

"Of course you do." Edward instinctively stretched his hand out in her direction before quickly retracting it again.

"Is there anything else?" Jacob asked.

"Things have been quiet tonight," Edward said. "Rose and Emmett haven't seen anything. And for you?"

Jacob shook his head. "I'll need to talk to Sam."

"In private." Edward stressed this last word.

"As much as that's possible. And no one else knows? Not even your, uh . . . Carlisle? Why does he think we're talking in private like this?"

Edward shook his head. "He doesn't know my plans. He believes I wanted to give Bella the opportunity to appeal to you alone, as her friend."

Jacob nodded at this and turned back to Bella. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Jake."

He clapped a hot hand on her shoulder, but she was so preoccupied, she only brushed her own hand over his, thoughts fully muddled with the possibilities Edward had presented.

For all her knee-jerk reaction against this plan, the idea was insidious, wheedling its way into her thoughts. _It would be so selfish_ , she told herself. Still, she would not _have_ to be changed—at least, not right away. She could—there were almost too many possibilities to consider. If Edward was right, she could have . . . time. It was too much to think that she might have something like a life, but even a few months, possibly more, during which she could regain her health, work through her fears, and allow her memories time to fade? Maybe even form the more equal partnership with Edward that she wanted to have and that both of them deserved? It was something . . . but at _such_ a cost. A potentially murderous cost.

As if Edward could still hear her thoughts, he came closer, crouching down so they were at eye level. "I think you know that I do not lightly share what it is that I hear in people's minds, but Jacob spoke directly to me this evening and asked me to share what I heard. He . . . loves you, Bella. He will do whatever it takes to keep you from becoming like me, including staying with us or just you at the expense of his life."

Bella shook her head. Jacob was so young, younger than she was. "He can't do that. For a little while, maybe, but . . ."

"He thought you would say as much, and he was very clear." Edward's gaze dropped to his hands which were folded tightly together, almost as if he were physically restraining himself from touching her.

 _He probably was_ , she thought sadly.

"I won't deny that Jacob is hoping this is more than a temporary respite for you, and there is a risk of future disappointment for him on that score, but I believe he is fully aware of what his choice entails. I may disparage some of the wolves and call them immature, but Jacob is not. His offer is genuine, and you have time to decide."

"What about _your_ family, Edward? How will they feel if we do this? And Alice and Jasper . . . they're still there."

Edward smiled softly, his eyes meeting hers. "If I was able to ask them all, I already know how any one of them would answer. They love you, Bella, and you are one of us now. If their taking this risk gives you the time you need to heal, to . . . choose for yourself, then they would do it without reservation. The decision is yours to make."

She held the two possibilities side-by-side, turning them over like two Chinese meditation balls in her hand, the choices ringing with equally loud consequences.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	42. Perusing the shelves

Bella jolted awake, blinking at the light in her room and at her room in general. Home, she reminded herself. _I’m home._ She’d been dreaming and not having the kind of dream she wanted to remember. From downstairs, she heard the clank and clang of a pot or pan being set on the stove, then the sound of water running. Was Charlie cooking?

She dressed quickly, her ears still attuned to the noises coming from the kitchen. Sure enough, Charlie was in the kitchen, cooking. 

_Whoa._

He had butter in the pan, several eggs cracked into a bowl, and a whisk at hand. 

“You gonna stand there making me feel inadequate?” Charlie asked, not turning around.

Bella smiled, feeling a little sheepish. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Charlie replied, tipping the eggs into the pan.

When he set the bowl in the sink, Bella approached, wrapping her arms around him. Her father didn’t quite startle, but he was slightly slow in reciprocating. 

Neither of them said anything, and if she was honest with herself, it felt a little awkward when she pulled away. Charlie’s face was slightly mottled, more pink in his cheeks than not.

“Want some eggs?” Charlie had picked up the spatula, pointing it toward the pan.

“Yeah. That’d be great. Coffee?” She had the canister in hand.

Charlie frowned. “You’re a bit young to be needing coffee every morning.”

She shrugged and smiled a little. “Italian influences. You’d have coffee every morning if you were there too. It was really good.”

Setting the coffee maker to perk, she leaned back against the counter, looking out the window. It was another grey day in Forks, but rather than offering disappointment, the layer of clouds felt comforting.

“What’re your plans for the day?” Charlie asked.

“Studying.”

“Okay. And?”

“There needs to be more?” Bella asked. The coffee machine spat water into the grounds, making a slow trickle into the carafe.

“All work and no play . . .” Charlie shrugged, then dished the eggs onto two plates, handing out one to her .

“Thanks.” She forked a bite into her mouth. They were really good. She eyed Charlie. When had he learned to cook?

“Sue’s recipe,” he said, seeming to read her.

Ah. Sue. This was not the first time her name had come up. “You guys seemed awfully . . . friendly the other day.”

Yes, there was that Swan blush. “We’ve been friends a long time.”

Sure. And Edward was just a friend, too. “Uh-huh.” She didn’t press further. 

Their breakfast was mostly silent, each of them contemplating their coffee, passing sections of newspaper back and forth. While Charlie read up on sports scores, Bella’s eyes drifted over the news in the local Port Angeles paper, lingering on the announcement of the reopening of one of the small city’s largest bookstores. She’d long ago exhausted the resources of the little library in Forks along with her own collection of books. After having reread the contents of her bookshelf, as they had been reproduced for her in Volterra, the familiar stories were not so appealing anymore. It would be nice to get something new to read. “Maybe I’ll head over to Port Angeles.” 

“Sounds nice. Will, um, anyone be going with you?”

_‘Anyone’ her butt._

“And would it be a problem for you if _Edward_ did?”

She swore she could hear his teeth grinding . “Your choices are your own,” he muttered.

She put down her cup. “Do you really feel the need to bullshit me about this?”

“Language.”

 _Fuck the language_ , she thought, catching herself before she said it aloud. Taking a deep breath, she murmured, “Sorry.” Clearly, anything she interpreted as a controlling statement was still a trigger for her, and his continued animosity toward the man she loved was equally as frustrating. She knew Charlie had spoken out of love and concern for her, but this was getting old. 

“To answer your question, no, but you know my feelings about him,” Charlie said.

 _All too well_ , Bella thought wryly. “Okay, and to answer _your_ question, I don’t know. I haven’t asked if he’s free.” Not that there was any doubt as to whether or not he was free. He was likely sitting in a tree somewhere outside her house. The idea made her smile. Tree-Edward. 

Charlie didn’t roll his eyes, but the level look he gave her conveyed the same sentiment. Clearly, he had a good read on her relationship with Edward. 

“Drive safely,” he said, leaning over to kiss the top of her head as he cleared the dishes.

“I will.”

She waited until the sounds of Charlie’s cruiser had faded from her hearing before speaking again. “Want to go shopping with me?”

The answer was a knock at the door, Edward standing there when she opened it. “I’d love to.”

Almost an hour and several household chores later, Bella and Edward were in his car on their way to Port Angeles. Edward had pointed out that the truck offered little refuge if the sun did make an appearance, and his smaller vehicle with darkly tinted windows did. If he had other commentary to make about her truck—and from the look he gave it, she was sure he did—he kept it to himself.

They trailed through the aisles of the renovated bookstore, making a general tour of its offerings. As with all things book-related, Bella couldn’t help but think of Marcus and Erastus, wondering how their work in the library was going. Would they have indexed the entire collection yet? Likely, given their dedication. She could check, of course, if her username and password had remained unchanged. Would that raise any alarms? Surely it wouldn't, given that the Volturi knew where she was. She made a note to ask Edward about it later. Shaking off these musings, she returned her attention to the physical present. As her fingers trailed over the colourful cookbooks in front of her, Bella realized, with no small surprise, how much she missed Marcus and Erastus. They’d been something like friends. Would she see them again, that way? She let the thought trail away, focusing instead on the book in front of her. She’d come with the intent to buy books for herself but also for Charlie. 

“What’re you looking for?” Edward asked.

Bella scanned the options in front of her. “A good, general cookbook for my dad.” He could make eggs, which was commendable, but she wanted to teach him a few more things and at least leave him a text that wasn’t intimidating. She would be leaving him soon, and while there wasn’t much she could impart to him, she could make sure he would eat well. 

As always, it seemed, the lid on her emotions was loose. Tears brimmed. “Damn.” She wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve.

Edward held out a tissue from a small package in his pocket. 

“Thank you,” she said, taking it with a tiny smile. “Don’t you know me well. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Why indeed? “I was not a weepy mess when you met me.”

“Well, first of all, I don’t think you’re a weepy mess, and second, I’d be worried if you weren’t crying at least once in a while.”

With the tears still rolling down her face, Bella laughed. “I suppose it’s better than keeping it all in.” Then something occurred to her as she was still dabbing at her eyes. She had her tears. What did he have? “How do you . . . deal with everything?”

“It’s not really the same for me,” he said quietly, not really looking at her. 

“I don’t believe you.” Bella surprised herself as she called him out, but this felt important. There was no way he was as unaffected by everything that had happened—and was happening now—as he claimed. She needed him to share this part of himself with her.

He stared at the floor for a few moments before peeking up at her through his eyelashes. “I run.”

“ _Have_ you been, though? Running?” She thought of the vigil he kept near her. Although other Cullens were supposedly taking shifts, she suspected Edward only allowed it when he needed to hunt. He was never gone long, she knew. Were those short reprieves enough for him? 

“I’m okay, Bella.”

She wasn’t so certain. “Sure. So am I,” she scoffed teasingly, waving her hands to indicate her tear-stained face. “I want you to take care of yourself, too.”

“Noted.”

“And ignored?” Bella could be stubborn, too.

“No, not at all.” Edward shook his head, reaching out and pulling a thick cookbook from the shelf, clearly attempting to change the subject. “This,” he said , “is the same cookbook my mother had.”

Bella lifted her eyebrows, eyeing the glossy hardback, _The Fannie Farmer Cookbook_.

“Not the exact one, of course. Then it was known as _The Boston Cooking School Cookbook_.” He flipped open the cover, pointing to the notes on the information page. “See?”

“Huh.” They were within arm’s reach of each other, and though her heart sped at his proximity, she didn’t stiffen in fear. Progress, she told herself. Progress.

Edward flipped through some of the pages, grinning as he reached the section on cooking meat.

“What?” Bella asked.

He shook his head. “Some memories still surprise me, things I’d thought I’d forgotten about.”

“Like what?”

His smile appeared wistful. “This edition doesn’t have it, but the original had instructions on how to manage the butchering, preparation, preservation, and cooking of an entire cow which, I’m sure you can imagine, was quite the production for the average housewife in 1918.”

“Yes, I _can_ imagine.” She peered over his shoulder, eyeing the text on the open page. “I don’t think Charlie will need quite that much meat, but it does have a handy chart of the different cuts and what to do with them.” Still thinking about the merits of the text, she stepped closer to examine it, abruptly realizing they were only inches apart. She could feel his breath on her hair. It felt nice. “It looks like a good book.”

“I think so.” He breathed the words more than spoke them. Very, very gently, very softly, his hand came to rest on her lower back.

She closed her eyes, focusing on drawing air in and out of her lungs, acclimating herself to this touch. 

“I really like that you’re touching me,” she whispered, still keeping her eyes closed.

“I really like it, too.”

Opening her eyes, she put her hand to his chest as she had the day before. No ugly memories assaulted her, and no shudder made her tremble. With a deliberate motion, she brought her other hand to his cheek and tilted her face up, bringing her mouth closer—

“I’ll beat you there!” A child’s voice squealed as a little figure darted right beside her, another child hurtling after.

Edward’s hand snapped to Bella’s arm, bracing her. His grip was firm but gentle. She did not need to fear bruising from his touch.

“Curtis, Mandy—no running!” a woman’s voice called. “Sorry!” she said, brushing past Edward and Bella.

Edward cleared his throat, slowly releasing his hand and moving it back to his side.

She had a sudden stab of longing for the privacy of the Volturi’s library, thinking of its deserted stacks.

Another distinctly human throat being cleared made Bella turn to face the source of the sound. An elderly woman smiled politely. “May I?” she asked, gesturing towards the cookbooks.

“Of course, sorry,” Bella murmured, the spell broken. She and Edward moved out of the narrow aisle and into the wider space between the shelves. Her eyes remained on Edward, who preceded her, his hand still holding the cookbook. 

She’d almost kissed him. Almost. And she still really wanted to.

Edward’s eyes, so bright in the morning light, seemed darker now. He’d turned around and had fixed his gaze on her; and it took her a moment after his lips moved to realize he was speaking to her. 

“Pardon?” she asked.

“Are there any other books you’d like to buy?”

The shelves, customers, and books had faded into the background. “No, um . . . Fannie, Boston, cow. I’m good.” She waved at the book in his hand.

How other people walked by his smile without being blinded, stunned, or made stupid, she had no idea. She stared, limp-lipped, dazzled, and happily dumbfounded by how easy it was to simply be with him in this moment.

“Well,” he said softly, stepping closer, “perhaps we can go find a quiet spot for you to peruse this rather gripping piece of reading?”

The sudden realization that there were other things she wanted to “grip and peruse” made her breathing come up short.

Stumbling towards the cash-register, she recovered, pulling in a sharp breath as Edward’s hand brushed her back again.

 _Breathe_ , she told herself. _Breathe_. Thinking of only these words, she realized she didn’t have to tell herself anything else. It was the delight of his touch, the comfort of his presence, the goodness that was him—and no ugly feelings crawling up from that seemingly endless well that stemmed from her time with Demetri. 

In a pleasant haze, she walked from the bookstore with Edward. They were outside before she even realized she’d forgotten to buy a new book for herself. It made her think of the Lower Order and her earlier and unspoken query.

“Do you think I could check on the Volturi library?” she asked Edward. They’d settled on a bench, the book in Edward’s hand.

“Is there something you’re looking for?” He looked back towards the bookstore.

She shook her head. “I was just wondering how the librarians were doing.”

Edward smiled. “You did some good work there. They regarded you very highly.”

“Did they?” 

“Did you really think otherwise?”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what to think. They seemed so . . .” The word “beaten” came to mind.

“Downtrodden?”

“Hmm.” It was close.

They looked out over the street, hands resting adjacent to one another. She considered asking him more about what he knew of them but decided not to ruin this peaceful moment with memories which were less so. 

“Ready?” Edward asked.

For anything, Bella thought. “Sure.”

\- 0 -

Bella pecked at the keys on her keyboard. The dial-up connection had finally gone through, the low screech of the final sound buzzing away in the background. From her memory, Bella plucked the address for the Volturi library, typing it in slowly on the clackety keys. She hesitated before clicking on the login page. Edward had said this would be safe. It was safe, right?

Not as if her hyper-protective boyfriend would say it was safe if it wasn’t. She giggled at that thought, shaking her head. No doubt he would ask her what she was laughing about later. Would she tell him? Maybe.

She had time to reconsider her actions as the page loaded. Almost half-heartedly, she wished she’d thought to bring her laptop with her from Italy, not that she’d really been in any mindset to do more than breathe at that point—if that. Though it was simple to use, this computer was old to the point of obsolescence, she was realizing. By the time all the text displayed, she had made her decision, quickly entering her username and password. Then she was in.

After bringing up the latest additions to the library’s collection, she laughed out loud. While there was quite a variety of topics that had been updated, there was one topic that had lately been expanded quite liberally. 

_Well, at least they have things they like reading about_. She wondered if the members of the Lower Order had discovered the many fan websites for their favourite show. She clicked on one of the new books, laughing even more when she saw how many times it had been checked out and returned already.

“Oh, Erastus.” She was happy he had good books to keep him company—or, well, at least books on his preferred topic.

She checked the latest books that had been borrowed. Scrolling through the long list of entries, she saw that yes, indeed, the only borrowers of books on the new electronic system were all members of the Lower Order. Either the members of the guard didn’t read, or they didn’t use the new electronic system. Not that it surprised her, but they seemed loath to change unless absolutely necessary. She recalled how often Demetri had lamented the modern world’s preoccupation with all things electronic. The self-effacing members of the Volturi’s claustral echelons embraced technology in a way Demetri never would.

“Good,” she muttered to herself. She wished he could get a paper cut right up his luddite butt.

Her eyes returned to the page, landing on a new entry entitled _Roses and their Variants_ . It was no surprise to see who had checked out that volume. She paused before clicking on the “notes” section for the text, thinking about a message that would not cause trouble for the man who had been something like a friend—her only friend—in Volterra: _I hope you’re well, Marcus. It’s lovely to see the collection has grown so much since I left. - Bella._ She read it over twice before saving it. She doubted the guard would see it, and if they did, she was certain it didn’t violate any rules. Edward would have cautioned her if it did.

She turned off her computer, wondering if the one that had been hers in Volterra was still there. Recalling how the first one had been destroyed, she jerked her thoughts away from the topic. She tried not to think about Demetri if possible, and she was surprised she’d been able to at all without being reduced to a quivering ball of fear.

“More progress,” she whispered.

Charlie’s steps thumped slowly up the stairs, interrupting her thoughts. 

“Night, Bells,” he called, peeking in through her door.

“Night, Dad.” She smiled at him.

“And thanks again for the book.” He chuckled, a nervous sort of sound. He’d looked almost frightened when she’d presented him with his new cookbook. 

“The Swan cooking school starts tomorrow,” she said solemnly, enjoying watching his eyes widen and then laughing at him a bit.

“Geez.” He rolled his eyes. Then more seriously, he said, “But sleep well, eh?”

“I will.” It was an equally solemn promise. She would try. At least now when she was rattled by nightmares, it was Edward who woke her before the screaming began, and it was he who soothed her with his voice. She closed her eyes, relaxing as she imagined hearing it. He would be here soon. Although he no longer spent nights watching over her in her room as he had in the past, she welcomed visits from him so they could say good night, and she left her window unlocked, fully trusting that he would only come in if she needed him. 

Of their own volition, her thoughts circled back to the Lower Order and their books. She moved over to her bed, kicking off her shoes and sliding under the covers. Plucking her Jane Austen anthology from her bedside table, she began reading, losing herself in a romance whose participants knew only the suffering brought by human cruelty, utterly free of savagery wielded by creatures with bright red, violent eyes.

* * *

A/N for 2020-10-23: There is nothing like working with people residing in different geographic locales to learn about the many idiomatic expressions tied to said locales, as well as the different nomenclature that reside there, too (for example: sofa, couch, chesterfield, divan, and davenport). I discovered that the intended title for this chapter, 'the whole cow' is a very local idiom (meaning the 'entire thing'), and had no meaning for my betas, Eeyorefan12 and Chayasara. Credit for the current title goes to them, along with my thanks for all their work on this chapter and story.

And in case you're wondering, yes, I do have a copy of _The Fannie Farmer Cookbook_ in my house. I swear by their cream scone recipe, but alas, I lack the ability to comment on the quality of instruction in butchering a whole cow, or preparing sweetbreads, despite the repeated pleas of one of my children to do so.

Until next week!

Erin

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	43. An unwanted guest

A/N for 2020-10-30: My thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their fine beta work.

Happy reading, All Hallows and All Saints for those of you who celebrate.

Erin

* * *

“Ugh,” Charlie said and then added an “Ow!” on top of it after lifting his head and smacking it on the engine cover of the boat. With his hands coated in engine oil, he used his forearm to rub at the top of his head. 

Bella grinned a little as smears of engine grease appeared on his forehead despite his efforts. She continued to work at the hull, rubbing on the waxing agent in small circles.

Charlie paused, eyes narrowed, head cocked. “Dang, that’s someone at the door.”

Bella listened. There were several neat knocks. “Yeah, sounds like it. I’ll get it, Dad. You’re a mess.”

“You can say that again,” Charlie grumbled.

Despite his grousing, Bella knew Charlie was happy—or happier than he had been. He hugged her every morning, something he’d never done before she left, and he smiled occasionally between directing frowns at the boat he was working on, mumbling over the work that still needed doing. Bella wiped off her wax-coated hands on a rag, which she tossed beside the back door, moving quickly to get to the front. Charlie loved working on this boat despite all the difficulty it presented. It had been Harry Clearwater’s, and Harry’s widow Sue had made it very clear that she expected Charlie to take good care of it. Bella’s father was doing just that—happily. She had offered to help wax the hull, though she was beginning to regret her volunteerism. She was tired after only an hour of slow and laborious, well . . . labour.

Expecting either a parcel delivery or another visit from the Jehovah’s Witnesses who liked to frequent her neighbourhood, Bella opened the door before lifting her gaze. 

“My Bella,” Demetri said.

She didn’t have time to gasp, breathe, or run. Her hands, which she tried to fling up defensively were suddenly captured in his. He placed them firmly on his own shoulders before he grasped her around the waist, yanked her towards him and kissed her.

She wanted to struggle or scream but didn’t, knowing the very mortal danger his presence created. Terrified by thoughts of what he could do, she remained very, very still as his hard lips pressed forcefully against hers.

Edward had told her that he would be nearby or that one of the other Cullens would be, as always. Where were they? And if they weren’t there, had something happened to them?

More traitorously, her mind added,  _ Have they left again? _

Demetri redirected her attention by finally pulling away and releasing her from his iron grip. “Oh, my Bella.” He cupped her cheeks with near bruising pressure. “They told me he forced you to go, that you left screaming ‘No!’ I came as soon as I could. Did he harm you?”

She was struck again, even in her terror, at the delusion under which he operated. 

_ The very important delusion you need to maintain. But also that you need to correct. _

She had to swallow before she could answer. “No, he didn’t hurt me, but I didn’t want to leave.” Both parts were technically true, just not entirely true.

Demetri exhaled. “I will take you home, then.”

“No!” she said, cutting back the force of the word just in time.

“No?” His eyes narrowed.

“My father.” Bella’s eyes darted to the left, suggesting the rear of the house. His hands still prevented her head from moving. “I . . . soon, I won’t be able to see him.” With his show of possession, she wondered how much Demetri knew of Edward’s promise to Aro.

Her words seemed to placate him a little, and his hands slipped from her face. “Your . . . human attachments. Yes. It is better if their conclusion is planned.” He frowned as if displeased by this necessity. “I trust that Edward has not shown inappropriate attention to you. You smell of him.” It was said so neutrally, so cooly, that Bella’s innards chilled. Demetri knew or at least suspected something. Would Alice have seen anything of Edward’s plan? And if she had, would Aro have shared it with Demetri? There was no way to know, and she took in what she hoped didn’t sound like a nervous breath.

“He said that he promised to change me and that he was responsible for me. He and his family . . . watch, to make sure I’m safe.” Her gaze skimmed the treeline. Demetri would have smelled their presence . . . or their absence.

She watched Demetri watching her. His hand returned to her hip. There would be a bruise on it by tomorrow, his stony grasp tight on her flesh. “Aro should never have made such an agreement with him. I was . . . not consulted. I know how hard it was for you to release hope of his affection. Do not let him be . . . confused now.” His voice lingered over this last word. “You know whose you are and whose you will be.” He ran his nose up the length of her hair, almost groaning. “How I have missed you.”

_ No, no, no, no . . . stay still. He won’t. He can’t. _ Her body trembled.

“And I can see that you have missed me, too.” His gaze raked over her form, finally settling on the hand he gripped. He frowned. “Where is your ring?”

Shit. She scrambled for a plausible excuse. “I . . . took it off so it wouldn’t get damaged. I was helping my dad work on his boat.”

The frown persisted. “You are expected to do menial labour?”

Her heart raced. He wouldn’t hurt Charlie, would he? She needed to stress her attachment. He would understand that, wouldn’t he? “I want to help my dad. I  _ love _ him.”

Instead of calming him, though, his eyes narrowed further at her words. Jealousy. He was jealous of her father. 

In the background, the dull clunks as Charlie worked on the boat had become further and further apart until they stopped altogether. The kitchen door creaked and clanged as it opened and shut, signalling Charlie’s approach.

“You should go,” she whispered urgently. She had no idea how to explain Demetri to Charlie, and any suspicion endangered her father.

The frown curled into what looked like a sly grin. “And miss meeting your human sire? I think not.”

It was too late. Charlie’s voice rang out from the end of the hall. “Who’s your friend, Bella?” Charlie extended his hand. “Charlie Swan. You are . . .?” Charlie glanced at Bella briefly, his eyes questioning why she hadn’t said anything. She was pretty certain he hadn’t missed the fact that Demetri had been holding her hand when he’d first walked in.

Demetri shook Charlie’s hand, and if her father noticed anything different about the way his hand felt or the grip that she knew must be too tight, he said nothing.

“This is Demetri. We met in Italy.” Miraculously, her voice was even.

“Oh yeah? How’d you meet?” Charlie asked.

Bella’s brain went blank.

Demetri chuckled. “Bella was visiting one of the museums for which I collect.”

“Oh?” Charlie looked at her again.

She tried to smile naturally. 

“You collect . . . ?”

“Interesting pieces,” Demetri said. “I was in Port Angeles on business recently. There is some truly unique artwork there.” He smiled at Charlie, and Bella watched her father flinch slightly.

No, Charlie was not entirely blind to how different Demetri was.

“But nothing as beautiful as your daughter.” Demetri practically purred.

_ No, please no _ , she thought.  _ Please don’t do this. _

Charlie cleared this throat. He was not effusive with words, and he was obviously uncomfortable with the way Demetri was—with everything about Demetri, Bella suspected.

“Port Angeles seemed too close to miss passing up visiting Bella, even briefly.”

“Well, we’re glad you stopped by.” Charlie’s even voice emphasized the second-to-last word, as in, the visit was over.

“Hmm,” Demetri said. He paused, visually assessing Charlie. “I can see that now is not a good time. But I will see you again, my Bella, when you next return to Italy.” Then he picked up her limp hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue making unseen contact with her skin. When he released her arm, he grinned a knowing grin. “Sooner, rather than later. Do not forget what I said.”

“Bye,” Charlie said politely, and then he drew Bella inside, closing the door. “Who the hell was that?”

Bella shook her head, imploring his silence. The wrong words from Charlie could very well sign his death warrant.

But the question that she’d been asking herself since Demetri’s arrival was again loud in her mind: where were the Cullens, and more specifically, where was Edward?

Charlie’s hands rested on his hips, and he locked his level gaze on what was now her very distressed body. She stuck her hands in her pockets, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Bella?”

“I think I’m going to take a bit of a break from the boat waxing, Dad, and head upstairs to lie down for a bit.” She turned towards the stairs, but Charlie moved in front of her.

“That was no friend,” Charlie said, hands resting on his hips. She could see by his expression that he was trying to puzzle something out, to make sense of what he had just seen. 

_Please don’t._ _Please!_

She could feel the blood continuing to flow down to her feet. If she said the wrong thing, and Demetri overheard it, she endangered not only them both but anyone else the Volturi thought was involved.

Charlie’s expression suddenly cleared, and he narrowed his eyes. “Was that one of the guys Edward had to—”

“Dad, I  _ really _ don’t feel well. Can we talk later?” she said, cutting him off and begging him with her eyes.

With one of his curt nods, Charlie dismissed her, and she moved slowly and deliberately up the stairs, practically feeling his gaze following her, knowing his questions were not abandoned, only delayed. 

With the initial shock of Demetri’s arrival over, anger fomented in its place. Clearly he had known what he was doing in Volterra. It wasn’t that the realization was new; it was that it had a fresh and clear visual target. The way the bastard had looked at her on her front porch, clearly expecting her to be happy to see him, had told her just how much he’d known the addiction would tie her to him. No doubt he’d expected his actions today to interrupt her current recovery. She’d already known he was monstrous, and her increased understanding of his capacity for malevolence only fuelled her rage even more. He’d deliberately addicted her to his venom.

She went first to the bathroom where she scrubbed her hand in an attempt to rid herself of any vestige of Demetri’s physical presence. Then she went to her room where she alternated between trembling and pacing quietly. When her energy and anger were spent, she sat on the bed and pulled her blankets up around her, knees to her chest.

“Bella?” Edward asked quietly.

She pulled in a sharp breath and then released her words and tears simultaneously. “Where were you?”

Edward crouched by her bed, close enough for her to touch him but not reaching for her. She could see that he wanted to, his shoulders tense with his restraint. “I was close by the entire time.” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”

Words failed her. He’d been here, and he’d let Demetri—?

“He knew I was here, Bella. He wasn’t alone, and he was very clear with the thoughts he directed at me. If I’d tried to interfere, he and the guard members with him would have killed your father and taken you. And he would have done so had your father reacted otherwise. I’m so sorry you had to endure that.”

Both frightened and relieved, Bella closed her eyes. “Is he really gone?”

“Yes.”

It would be easy to cry. It would be easy to allow her control to dissolve. She yanked herself back from the verge of both, opening her eyes to watch Edward.

His face wore her distress for her, and she wished she could offer him the physical comfort and reassurance he so obviously needed, but the thought of feeling his cold skin was so freshly abhorrent that she couldn’t even extend her hand. He seemed to understand this, standing suddenly and moving away from the bed and closer to the window. Instead of his usual calm demeanor around her, she sensed a growing uneasiness in him. 

“He won’t touch or hurt you again, Bella.” 

Demetri was already hurting her, preventing her from touching Edward here and now. “I wish that were true.” She knew Edward must feel the same, but wishes were truly all they had right now. Demetri’s visit had made it clear that even the Cullens’ constant presence could not deter him from coming near her if he chose to. 

Edward did not challenge her comment. 

“He kissed me.” Bella wasn’t sure if her words were more confession or complaint but they had slipped out before she had even thought about it. She felt herself shiver with revulsion as both the memory and the sensation of it washed over her. “He said I was... _ his. _ ”

Edward said nothing, but she saw that he had dropped his gaze to the floor, his hands in tight fists at his sides. Bella could practically feel the tension rolling off of him from across the room, could see his body literally vibrating with effort, and she knew that she was witnessing something he had never allowed her to see before—the full force of his struggle to control his true nature. In the wake of the fresh reminder of vampire brutality engendered by Demetri’s visit, she supposed she should be frightened, but at least in this, Edward had her trust. He would not hurt her. Whatever instinct he was fighting surely had everything to do with her unwanted visitor. Still, she realized she was holding her breath as if doing so could somehow make this easier for him. 

When he finally spoke, it was through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. “That was for my benefit as much as yours. I saw what he did, both the kiss and when he put his . . . scent on you. I heard what he  _ said _ .” Edward raised his head, and when their eyes met, his were nearly black with something she didn’t choose to name. “It will  _ never  _ be true,” he said fiercely. 

She knew what Edward had left unsaid, but it didn’t matter because she understood. If he wasn’t saying the words out loud, it was out of respect for her free will, but it didn’t change the fundamental truth between them in this moment. She  _ couldn’t _ belong to anyone else. She was Edward’s—and he was hers. And instead of that idea causing her to feel stifled or controlled, she realized that the opposite was true. She was still learning to recognize it for what it was, but the sense of belonging that she felt when they were together in their quietest moments could calm her soul. 

She just wished that recognizing that almost-spiritual connection between them was enough to overcome the reoccurrence of the mental distress caused by Demetri’s touch. Still hesitant to reach out to Edward, she laid one hand over her own heart as she held his gaze.  _ Yes, this is yours,  _ she thought. 

The faintest of smiles ghosted across his lips before he repeated the gesture. He turned to sit in the rocking chair in the corner, still keeping his gaze on her but maintaining his careful distance. She supposed he thought it safer for both of them right now but already the tension seemed to have melted from his shoulders and the blackness in his eyes was giving way to amber. 

Bella’s thoughts reluctantly returned to the earlier events. She needed to process what had happened, both the how and the why. There was an agreement in place between the Volturi and the Cullens regarding her future. Even Demetri had acknowledged it. What was going on?

She stood up, folding her arms around herself in a protective posture. “Why was he here, Edward?”

Edward ran a hand through his hair in a show of agitation before he answered, “He was one of several guard members sent to the area.”

That wasn’t an answer. “ _ Why _ ?”z

She saw him glance out the window, exhale, and then look back at her. “It appears that there’s a vampire making more of our kind in the area.”

There was so much more to it than that, she could practically smell it. Here was his chance to be forthcoming, and she sucked in a shallow breath, wondering if she would have to drag yet another truth from him, hoping he wouldn’t choose this moment to give free rein to his protective instincts, especially so soon after Demetri’s possessive display. 

“We’re not sure, but we think it might be Victoria.”

Her shallow breath turned into a shiver. 

“Given that she wants revenge, and our family is still strong even without Alice and Jasper,  _ if _ Victoria is collecting newborns—”

“She’s probably making an army.” Bella finished for him.

She saw Edward’s eyebrows nudge together. “How do you—?”

“Carlisle’s treatise. I read it in Volterra.”

From the expression on his face, Bella understood that her reading this was new information to Edward. More importantly, she wondered for just how long he and the other Cullens had been speculating about the creation of an army. Her insecurity flared briefly inside of her along with all the other feelings making war in her gut, but she quickly stifled them, reminding herself that Edward had been forthcoming without any prompting from her. He was not the enemy here. “How long have you suspected?”

Edward shook his head. “I know what you might be thinking, Bella, but I’m not keeping information from you. We knew she had at least two other helpers. It was pure conjecture that she had more or that she was doing this. I have more hours alone than I care to spend on such speculation. I won’t burden you with the products of my overly active mind.”

It was a nervous but relieved sigh that she breathed out. “Thank you.” Hands on her hips, she paced the length of her room. “So if she’s building an army . . . ?” She hoped he would continue with some of his discarded speculation. 

But Edward only shook his head again. “We really don’t know, but given what’s happening in Seattle, it’s a possible theory.”

She reflected on her morning routine of reading the newspaper at the table with Charlie, the  _ Seattle Times _ at one end, the local paper at the other. The front page stories had become carbon copies of one another, repeating every few days or so: missing, murdered, serial killer—

“That could be good, then,” Bella said.

The “how” in Edward’s wrinkled features was unspoken.

“If they’ve dealt with her, it means you won’t have to,” she explained.

Edward shook his head. “No. Demetri—he thinks in a very particular way when he’s been . . . successful. He wasn’t, at least not like he’s been before. He may have diminished her numbers, but I don’t think he found what he considers the root of the problem. I could hear his distraction.”

Her disappointment was startling. She checked herself, considering what she’d just been thinking. She’d wished that Demetri  _ had _ been successful. Her mind wandered back to the grotesque horrors she’d been forced to witness in Volterra, and her stomach churned. She’d briefly aligned herself with Demetri and the guard. Ugh.

It was like the flip of a light switch; the change inside her was sudden. With a sense of finality, she moved to her desk. Her fingers trembled as she shoved aside papers, pens, books—where was her phone?—ah, there. She could barely punch in the familiar number, but when she did, she pressed the cold glass screen to her face, praying with every blip of the ringtone,  _ Please answer. Please answer.  _ She couldn’t delay or wait, not any longer.

“Hiya!” Jake’s loud and chipper voice made her flinch.

“Jake?”

“Bells?”

“Can you get over to my house right now?”

“Sure. Let me get my keys—”

“No.  _ Now _ , now. Right away.”

“Are you—?”

“I’m safe. Just—please hurry.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” She could hear him kicking off his shoes.

“Yes. Edward’s here. I’m okay. I just—”

“I got it. Gimme five minutes.”

She snapped the phone shut, looking back at Edward. His tense posture mirrored hers.

“It’ll only take him a few minutes,” Edward assured her.

_ He understands _ , she told herself as she nodded in response. She looked around her room, skimming over the artifacts of childhood that now seemed so out of place—magazine snippets that meant something when she was fourteen, fairy lights that staved off the dark, music that once soothed. All this was the detritus of an age passed, for she knew that the darkness held things no light or music could ever banish.

Darkness to which she would soon belong if the Volturi had their way.

Her clock face changed its red numbers four times before Edward spoke again quietly. “Jacob’s here.”

He got up suddenly from the chair in the corner and moved to the middle of the room, placing himself in front of Bella. She recognized the protective nature of his action and she had a moment’s worry that there might be a looming confrontation, which puzzled her. He had  _ wanted  _ her to bring Jake here, hadn’t he? Confused, she took a step forward so that they were side-by-side. 

Jacob’s hand soon appeared at the windowsill, leveraging the rest of him inside the room. She supposed he really couldn’t have come through the front door, given that she was supposed to be resting alone. Unbidden, she realized that Demetri was the only supernatural creature who’d respected the human boundaries of her home. Given the present company, the irony was not lost on her.

“Who’s been here?” Jacob asked, voice low and serious. His gaze snapped back and forth between Bella and Edward.

“One of our kind,” Edward answered, his voice almost a growl.

“Duh. Who?” Despite his choice of words, there was no levity in Jacob’s expression. He was all business.

Edward had not taken his eyes off of Jake since he’d come in but when Bella looked to him to answer the question, his expression softened and he nodded at her before explaining in a much calmer voice than before. Bella watched Jacob’s eyes widen with the information that she had been visited by a Volturi guard member and that there were several others in the area. When Edward finished, she found her voice again. “Thank you for coming.” Then she clamped her jaw shut, thinking about the words that she wanted to speak next. Was she sure? Because once she made this decision, they would need to move quickly, at least to protect the rest of the Cullens.

From outside, the sound of Charlie’s soft swearing drifted through the window.  _ Oh, Charlie. _ She winced. She’d need to say goodbye, and soon. Not that this changed things in that regard, but it felt so much more final.

“Okay.” Jake shifted his weight, looking more his adolescent self than his body suggested. He waved a hand in Edward’s direction. “So, that explains his death stare when I first came in, but why the rush to get here, then, if the nasty guy is gone?”

Looking around her room again, Bella decided it was fitting that she would announce the end of both their childhoods here, not that hers hadn’t ended ages ago, but if there were any warmth remaining in that now-frayed and comforting notion, she was ripping it up in this moment.

She looked to Edward, whose expression was nothing but encouraging, and then turned back to Jacob. Squaring her shoulders, she swallowed hard and said, “I’ve made my decision, Jake. I’m not ready to be changed.” She glanced again at Edward, who was nodding in approval. He trusted her, and he believed that this plan could work—if Jacob helped them. She thought again about the difficulties they would all face. But she knew that Jacob had already offered his support. She just had to ask for it on behalf of herself and Edward. Drawing a deep breath, she pushed out the words before her courage failed her. “Will you help me?” 

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	44. Obscured Thoughts

A/N for 2020-11-06: It's Friday, and for this I am grateful. I'm also grateful for the two talented women who do so much amazing work on this story: Chayasara and Eeyorefan12.

Happy reading, folks!

Erin

* * *

Edward leaned into the piano keys, trying to wrest more music from them than they could really produce. Though his face and body appeared placid to most of his family, he knew that Carlisle was not fooled by his performance, musical or otherwise.

_Did something happen with Bella, son?_

Moving in time with the music, he turned his head to the left and then to the right. Carlisle would recognize the gesture for the negative response that it was.

As he continued to play, he heard Carlisle switch his ruminations from Bella generally to Bella's medical treatment specifically. She was doing well, he thought, well enough that perhaps there could be a trial period with much-reduced exposure to Edward's venom. He thought she could also likely do well without Carlisle's involvement in her treatment at all.

Edward brought the song to a faster than planned conclusion.

 _Did Carlisle suspect something?_ Edward's gut clenched, considering this possibility. If he did, it endangered their entire family. For if Aro ever heard— _No, Aro will not hear!_ he told himself. He thought of the plan he had fabricated to take Bella for treatment and trauma counseling in New York. It provided a credible reason for them to leave home and to be out of touch with family for a time. Then he thought about flying back to Forks with her so she could say goodbye. He thought of deciding to change her. _Look at that, Alice,_ he implored silently.

He stood up and moved quickly to his room, lying down on his couch to stare at the ceiling. He was ill at ease, being away from Bella, but she had insisted on this time apart, and then Rose had, too. In fact, his sister had demanded the time together without Edward's worrying, not that she hadn't seen cause for worry, especially after he'd reported Demetri's visit to his family, but she assured him she would keep Bella safe. Knowing it was only for a few hours, Edward had relented. He'd plucked from Rose's mind plans that involved the buying of clothing, movies, and books. If his sister thought the first two items were of interest to Bella, she would be disappointed indeed.

Or perhaps there was more to it than he knew? His eyes narrowed. After so long apart, he found himself caught off guard by thoughts his family had clearly hidden from him, aspects of their characters seemingly fresh after all their years of familiarity. It had been a longer parting than normal, though, and one which had wrought a great deal of change in him.

He wrenched his thoughts away from what had brought about that shift in himself, returning his speculations to his family.

Few things rattled him more than surprising revelations about the character of his family members. He was privy to the innermost workings of each of them. What said more about someone than the correlation of their thoughts with their actions?

He shook his head. He was being paranoid. Of course, he had every reason to be paranoid.

Downstairs, his brother's quietest voice was still so loud and deep as to bounce off the walls. "Yeah, I could go for a bear about now," Emmett said to Carlisle. "Edward, wanna come?"

He should hunt. He hadn't hunted with Emmett in some time. There would be very few opportunities between now and when he and Bella planned to travel. "Absolutely," he called out, glad that Carlisle would be with them.

The thick clouds above had developed irregular fissures so that patchy bits of sun lit up the forest floor as if it were at the mercy of a giant, dysfunctional disco ball. Their bodies flying through these rays only added to the effect. Miles deep into the park's forest, the blanket of sword ferns swished around their feet as they passed by. Combined with the running, Edward found the regular sound almost soothing. He could almost ignore being away from Bella when he ran. He could almost not worry. Almost.

It was Emmett who caught the scent of his prey first. _Mine_ , he called silently to Edward, who couldn't help but grin a little at his brother's playfulness. Edward and Carlisle kept running, noses to the wind, searching for their own targets.

The distance between the two parties grew, and the sounds of Emmett's play with his prey became fainter. Edward watched Carlisle shake his head, his face also adorned with a small smile. They all had their measures of joy, Carlisle was thinking, though his musings darkened when he thought of Jasper and Alice.

Inwardly, Edward sighed. His family's happiness was already fractured, and it would be even more so when he and Bella disappeared.

He had carefully avoided thinking of the reason why, and he avoided it now. He thought of Bella being well, of her receiving treatment at the centre he'd researched in New York. He stopped running, and Carlisle did too, looking at him with curiosity.

_Something is on your mind, that something being Bella, yes?_

Edward nodded and then gave Carlisle the additional details he'd learned about the therapy he'd been researching, responding as his father asked the questions he'd anticipated. Yes, his plan was solid in this regard. He hadn't doubted that.

There was more that he needed to say, though, and he knew he needed to say it very carefully so as not to reveal his true plans to the man who knew him better than anyone. "I'm not sure how long the treatment will take."

_Of course. I'd hardly expect you to._

"We may be gone until we need to return for . . . until our deadline." How he hated to even think about that possibility.

Carlisle eyed him shrewdly. He was suspicious.

It was not difficult to pretend guilt. "I'm not trying to stay away from our family or keep her from you. You know how much I love you all."

 _Indeed._ Carlisle's eyebrows pinched together. He didn't like the sound of this. Assurances of love were often followed by those very assurances being tested in some way. A similar conversation had prefaced Edward's departure when they'd left Forks the previous year.

"Given what this last year has taught me, I have no intention of making the same kinds of mistakes again." He met Carlisle's gaze. _Please understand,_ he thought. _Hear me._

His father's thoughts became suddenly and nebulously fearful. His eyes widened and then narrowed slightly. It was only for a moment, but Edward saw the image of Bella, red-eyed and pale, shift to one of her as human, the beginning of crow's feet at her eyes suggesting a kind of aging impossible over just a few months. Then it was gone, replaced with thoughts of Bella as a golden-eyed vampire.

"I understand entirely," Carlisle said softly. His thoughts darted to a new topic. "Then we should hunt. I can't imagine you're eager to leave her for long."

By the time Edward and Carlisle finished with their own prey, Emmett was bounding back towards them, exulting in the simple joy of conquering his meal. Emmett thumped Edward on the back good-naturedly and then frowned as he sniffed. "Badgers and raccoons? Really? You couldn't find anything better?"

"Someone has to pay attention to the stock availability in the park." Edward lifted an eyebrow pointedly.

Emmett shrugged. His thoughts were utterly preoccupied with the present and then with Rosalie. He was looking forward to being physically reunited with her again. He thought about—

Edward shifted to Carlise's mind, trying to drown out the specifics Emmett was considering. Carlisle had caught the scent of a lynx and was quickly ascertaining its likely location as well as the most painless way to dispatch it. With a brief glance at his sons to make sure neither of them had the same idea, he took off after it.

"Bella seems to be doing okay these days." Emmett's voice was very soft. He picked up a tiny trillium flower, whose unseasonal blossom had been sheltered in the hollow of a large pine tree. "You seem to be good for her."

 _Good_ for her?

Edward laughed bitterly. He was anything but good for her. Her father hadn't had any difficulty seeing through to the truth of that. But he was hers, good or not. And she was . . . she was her own person, and he was damn lucky that she loved him. He would ensure that she had as much of a human life as possible to live with that love.

Cutting off the thought, he returned to thinking about the treatment centre.

"When do you guys leave for that trauma place?" Emmett asked.

"Monday next week," Edward said.

"Gonna miss you." He twirled the delicate flower in his hand. He thought of Jasper and Alice and how it would be even lonelier with just him, Rose, Esme, and Carlisle. He consoled himself with the knowledge that the parting would be only brief. He thought of Bella smiling but red-eyed and deathly pale. And then he thought of her ripping Demetri's head off.

The snarl in Edward's chest took them both by surprise.

Emmett's hand tightened instinctively around the fragile blossom, crushing it.

Guilt assailed Edward. Here he was, anxious to spend time with his sibling and father, anxious to know if his brother had truly forgiven him, and yet all he could do was snarl at what Emmett considered justice, what he himself considered justice, when it came down to it.

The thought of Bella being near Demetri ever again made him think he would be physically ill. He put his head in his hands. "Please ignore me. I'm—"

"I know," Emmett said quickly.

Edward lifted his head, watching Emmett throw the flower's corpse to the forest floor. He felt bad now for even more trivial reasons. Emmett had planned to give the rare blossom to Rosalie.

"She's going to be okay, you know." Emmett sounded so sure.

Edward scanned his brother's thoughts, searching for the source of this certainty. He almost laughed when he found it. He supposed he had his answer.

"You think that _I'm_ the reason she's going to be okay?"

"Are you blind?" Emmett lifted an eyebrow at him.

Edward snorted.

"She loves you."

"It takes more than love to repair the kind of damage I've done."

Emmett nodded. "Yeah, I guess." He thought of Alice and Jasper dressed in the guard's clothing in what he imagined the Volturi fortress looked like. The most distressing parts of the image, though, were Jasper's and Alice's brilliantly red eyes. Edward veered away from this part of Emmett's imagined tableau, trying to fill his mind's eye with what Emmett was thinking of Bella instead.

"You're on the right track, though, with where you're going next week." Emmett folded his arms, leaning against a large fir tree. "She'll be a lot less breakable when she's like us, too." His mind filled with the joys this life brought: of playing, of hunting, of lovemaking, of the peace of knowing your mate is safe. Secondarily, he considered the danger Victoria might bring if Bella remained human. Still, it was secondary. He didn't think she would get past the Cullens. The wolves' help was just icing on the cake, safety-wise.

Edward winced. How could he not? He'd fought so hard and so futilely for Bella to remain human. To see Emmett's version of things blanketed him with despair, and he gritted his teeth and hoped that Alice and Aro were regarding his and Bella's futures at this moment because it was a misery he wanted justified, seeing Bella so.

"Shall we head back?" Carlisle's voice drew Edward from his ruminations. He hadn't even heard him return.

"We'll see you in a bit," Emmett said. He eyed Edward in a way that suggested he had more to say.

Edward's gaze moved to Carlisle. As his sire stood, seemingly preoccupied with some distant item on the horizon, a glimmer of thought revealed that Carlisle had actually been considering other things he was trying to keep private. Edward hoped that his father's ability to obscure his thoughts was never tested by anyone with stronger skills than his, for he and Bella were already pushing the very limits of the Volturi and all their powers, and to do so was dangerous indeed. He could only pray his plan with Jacob worked, for there was so much more than his own life at stake if it didn't.

"I'll see you soon, then," Carlisle said.

Emmett's gaze followed Carlisle's trajectory as he left for home, and he waited until their father was several minutes gone before he spoke to Edward silently.

_I'm surprised you haven't asked me about any of this stuff yet, or do you just pick it out of my head and think you don't need the help?_

There had certainly been a time when Edward would have done that very thing, though for many months now, the opposite was true. His awareness of his own change in thinking did not deaden the sting of Emmett's criticism. It seemed that all he did lately was question his own actions where Bella was concerned.

"I think I can use all the help I can get."

 _At least she's made you see that about yourself._ Emmett chuckled good-naturedly.

Bella had. He _was_ better for being with her. "What should I . . . what do you think I need to know?" He listened as Emmett considered his question, the flurry of his brother's thoughts confusing as they flashed across his mind in pictures and moving clips of memories. Then Emmett settled on a feeling, and Edward had to close his eyes to cope with the strength of it.

"It doesn't go away."

Edward ground his teeth together. He'd hoped it would, but he'd doubted, too.

 _It isn't that I didn't get to kill them or in some way effect justice. It's that it happened at all. There is nothing more enraging than knowing_ —here he struggled for the right word. Mate was a term he did not like to use. Soul-mate was closer. Emmett wound back his thoughts to his sentence, using the term he liked least but that held both the gravity of emotion and animalistic urgency together: _There is nothing more enraging than knowing someone has not just hurt your mate but robbed them of having that first experience as it should be. Being raped hasn't ruined lovemaking for Rosalie, but it—_ his thinking cut off. It was painful for him to put it into words, even in his thoughts. Emmett's mind continued the thought in wordless ways.

It didn't ruin it forever, but it tainted it far more regularly than he wanted to admit, not just for her but for him too. That part of her past stained other parts of their life also.

Edward caught a glimpse of the rage Emmett kept so carefully under wraps.

Yes, his family did know how to keep their thoughts from him at times, and he was glad.

"I'm sorry."

Edward shook his head, staring at the ground in front of him. "Thank you for being so honest."

Emmett was still contemplating something, and Edward waited with a growing sense of unease as he heard his brother's thoughts coalesce. When they did, Emmett chose not to speak his idea aloud. _I guess the only difference is you saw everything, didn't you?_

Edward didn't respond. He couldn't. He could see himself through Emmett's eyes and knew his brother could glean from his expression the agony he could no longer hide from him.

Emmett shook his head again and turned away, no longer watching Edward as if it were too painful for him to see his distress. "Dude."

There was so much empathy and understanding in that simple word that for the first time, Edward spoke aloud the thing he had thought he would never reveal.

"He . . . wanted me to see," he said, choking the words out. "Even when I tried to block his thoughts, he would send them to me. He would think my name when he was with her, knowing it would catch my attention, and . . . he would replay everything, every . . . interaction between them."

Emmett was quiet, but his thoughts roiled with his disgust and anger on Edward's behalf. Instead of this adding to Edward's emotional burden, he found that his brother's willingness to share his grief made it somehow more bearable in the moment.

"She can never know this," Edward said, "any of it. She can't know."

"I get it," Emmett said aloud. He finally faced Edward again, and their eyes met. "But, Ed, man, you gotta let it go. I don't know how, but you have to, for her."

"I know. I'm trying. But I wonder if _she_ can." Here was his other fear, his greatest one.

 _She could still forget a lot of it_. Images of Bella, newly made and red-eyed, danced through Emmett's thoughts again. _There's been enough time. It won't be so fresh. Not like with Rose._

Edward made himself nod, smiling weakly. It was harder to maintain the pretense now. He swallowed, seeking to redirect Emmett's line of thinking. "Any other advice?"

Emmett looked sombre again, turning away and sighing as he silently and reluctantly brought up a different consideration.

Edward jerked his head up at his brother's thoughts. "Of course not!"

"That isn't just on you." Emmett sounded defensive. "What if she asks?"

"I think you've all seen exactly why that will never happen."

Emmett's eyebrows rose. "You do know how she'd take your refusal, right?"

Emmett's question drew Edward up short. "You think she'd believe—you think she'd see it as a rejection of her because what Demetri did somehow . . . what, 'sullied' her?" The idea was ludicrous to him.

"I'd think that you of all people would understand that yes, that's exactly how she would interpret it." While Emmett was trying to be polite, he was also thinking that for a mindreader, Edward seemed pretty fucking obtuse sometimes.

"I try to screen out most people's thoughts, Emmett, especially ones that are so personal."

Emmett shook his head slightly but not unkindly. "You can't say no if she asks. At least, you can't refuse her outright. I get that you don't want to hurt her, and I can totally see why you'd be afraid to try while she's human, but you need to convince her that you want to, and then talk about the . . . physical concerns."

Would she ask? He'd considered that it might be part of their future, but it was something that lived in their very distant future, at least in his mind, and only if she were like him. But Emmett might be right. If she asked, he needed to be prepared for that. He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking.

Emmett laughed a little. "Yeah, you can pretty much overthink anything."

He offered Emmett a familiar and disapproving glare.

Emmett smiled in his good-natured way but then became serious again. "You know her, Edward. You love her, and she sure as hell loves you. You have everything you need with that, at least now." He thought of the ways Edward had changed since he'd met Bella and particularly how he was since their return. His thoughts were nothing but approving.

Perhaps, Edward conceded to himself.

"But you need to believe that because she'll know if you don't." The warning tone in Emmett's voice was unmistakable.

Here Edward disagreed. He had kept so much from Bella far too successfully and with far too much damage.

Through Emmett's eyes, Edward's doubt showed clearly on his face.

"No, it's . . . different." Emmett tried unsuccessfully to hide just how much. While he didn't want to reveal more of his intimacies with Rose than necessary, he did so now, showing Edward exactly how much one's mate could sense their partner's apprehension and how it could spoil a moment between them.

Edward suppressed a growl of frustration. This was something else he hadn't considered although he had to admit to himself that he'd had little reason to. Not only had he diligently turned his thoughts away from family members during any intimacies over the years, he had also never considered what such intimate moments would be like with Bella—at least, not while she was human.

Emmett stepped away, not to leave but as a way to mark the end of the conversation. "You're enough as you are, Edward. You just need to believe that."

Edward could only hope that he was.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	45. An interlude in New York

A/N for 2020-11-13: Congratulations on making it through a Friday the 13th in 2020. Not a small accomplishment! 

As always, massive thanks to the amazing betas Chayasara and Eeyorefan12.

\- Erin

* * *

Despite Edward’s assurances that their cover story would hold up to Charlie-level scrutiny, Bella’s stomach twisted as her father read the information about the New York clinic which Edward had provided. Sitting at the kitchen table, Charlie was currently on page two, his toast in one hand, the letter outlining fees and scheduling options in the other. He lowered both. “This is, um . . . Can we look at something closer to home?”

“It’s a really good place, Dad.” She knew it must be. Not only had Edward assured her of this, but she also had no doubt that his Cullen sensibilities prevented him from picking anything less than the best.

His eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, for those prices, it should be. I can look into my benefits—”

She shook her head. “You won’t need to.”

“I won’t need to?” He peered at her over the paper, raising his eyebrows.

“Edward’s family—”

“Edward’s family.” A look of resignation appeared on his face. “I see.”

“They feel . . . obliged to help after I . . . helped Edward.”

Charlie pressed his palm over the letter, now flat on the table. “Is this what  _ you  _ want?” His voice was very soft.

She nodded.

“You know you don’t need my permission, Bells.”

“I know.” She knew the decision was hers, but she hated lying to him. Her hands tightened around the cup in her hands. She briefly settled her gaze on the coffee inside it.

“Do what you need to do if you think it’s going to help you—”

“I do.” She cleared her throat, trying to hide the fact that she’d been nervous enough to interrupt him. “But I value your opinion too.” His goodwill meant he was less likely to grow suspicious later on. 

“Then you have my blessing.” He looked so sad saying it, and though she was glad she had his approval, she wished it would bring him some small measure of happiness. This was the beginning of a goodbye he didn’t even know was happening. Barring some sort of miracle, she would never see him again.

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Soon she’d be leaving and not returning, and while she was relieved to know she wasn’t leaving to become like the Volturi, the loathsome creatures she despised, there was no absence of grief in the decision she was making.

\- 0 -

“New York will be very warm,” Edward said. He sat by her desk, hands clasped together between his knees as Bella pondered the contents of her closet. “And humid too.”

Heat didn’t bother her. If anything, she looked forward to being warm. Humidity though, she could do without. “What else will New York be, Mr. Well-Travelled?”

Edward smiled sheepishly and dropped his gaze to his lap. He wasn’t shy about what he’d experienced and what he knew from said experience, but she understood that he didn’t like to show off in either respect. She loved to hear about his many past decades of life, and she was sure that city had featured in them at least several times.

“Very colourful. Very vibrant.” His voice was soft.

“Hmm.” There was so much more she wanted to hear, but she didn’t want to push him either. He’d tell her in his own good time.

“So aside from pretending to be in treatment for my fake Xanax addiction, what else can we do to pass the time in New York?” She plopped both herself and a stack of hangered shirts on the bed beside her underwear and socks, peeking over at him out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t think he’d want to watch her sort through her underclothing, and when she glanced his way, saw she was right. However, she could watch  _ him _ with impunity. As always, it was one of her favorite things to do.

“There’s so much music.” Edward was looking out the window now, and by the look of his faraway gaze, his memory was adrift.

“What kind’s your favourite?” She tucked a stack of bras into the corner of her suitcase.

“Jazz.”

Of course. Her man was a product of his time. “I wouldn't mind catching a show or two in the city.”

Edward stood and stretched slowly, the action causing his shirt to lift and show a sliver of skin.

Bella stopped and stared, mildly stunned as she always was when his physique was displayed—which was rare. A small thought tingled in the back of her mind—this movement was intentional. Vampires didn’t need to stretch. He was doing this to distract her from the topic at hand.

She kept staring as he approached and sat beside her on the bed.

It was a bold move for him to slide his hand under hers even though they’d been working their way back to careful touching after her setback from Demetri’s visit. “I look forward to showing you a great deal of New York.” He leaned forward. “Shows, music, art, gardens, its history. The food is amazing—or so I’m told.”

Bella blinked at his approaching face, inching towards hers. She sucked in a breath that her brain had neglected to tell her to take until this moment.

“So many things I want to share with you.” His lips were less than a hair’s breadth away, and then they weren’t as they brushed her jaw. 

She exhaled as sharply as she’d inhaled, closing her eyes. _ Oh my God. This felt so good. So, so good. _

His hand curled around hers, fingers closing over the top of her own. His lips still only brushed against her jaw like air. She couldn't move, she was so frozen with the pleasure of his teasing touch. The sensation travelled along her jawbone, up to her ear, and down the side of her neck in the form of a delicious shiver.

Part of her mind thought they’d be lucky to see the outside of their hotel room once they were in New York, given what he was doing to her now. Given what she wanted him to keep doing.

She risked placing a hand at the small of his back, watching as he closed his eyes, a tiny hum escaping his lips. 

This time, her body tensed, not in fear but because she wasn’t sure of the sound he’d made. A good sound? A sound that meant she’d touched too much?

His lips meeting hers was her answer. Though cool, they seemed to elicit warmth in her every extremity, drawing it all in his direction. Yes. So right. The heat kept growing, blossoming and blooming in her arms, her legs, her thighs, her centre—all of it flowing to Edward through her lips and hand.

It felt like two notes being played, trembling in unison, rhythm and harmony joined. The thought would have made her smile if her lips weren't so occupied by Edward's

Together they were a song that she was almost ready to sing.

\- 0 -

Walking into the lobby of the hotel, the starkly striped floor made Bella’s head spin and not from anything related to her precarious health.

“Whoa,” Jacob said, giving voice to her own thoughts. “You don’t travel cheap, do you?” These words were for Edward, who smiled politely back at him before stepping towards the reception desk to check in. It wasn’t Jake’s first such commentary on this trip. Never having been on a plane, let alone a commercial airliner before, he had looked similarly out of his element in the first class cabin on the flight to New York. 

Bella hung back a little, letting her gaze take in the space. Yes, expensive and beautiful too. The decor was stunning though she hoped the rooms were more sedately decorated. The bold stripes on the floor made her head hurt.

Turning back to them, Edward handed each of them a key card. “We’re in the penthouse—”

“Of course you are,” Jacob muttered.

Edward appeared to fight a smile as he continued speaking, politely ignoring Jacob’s comment. “And you’re in a suite on the 14th floor. It’s quite . . . roomy.”

Edward wasn’t joking. They stopped at Jacob’s room first so that Bella knew where he was. She could hear his “Holy shit!” from behind the closed door once they had stepped back into the hall. 

She smiled, walking beside Edward as they headed to the elevator. “Will he be okay? Should we make sure he can find everything? We wouldn’t want him to get lost or anything,” she said, teasing.

Edward chuckled. “Provided the bidet doesn’t confuse him, I think he can figure it all out, but I can . . . check in later.” He looked a little uncomfortable as he said this, and she understood why right away. It wasn’t in his nature to want to “keep tabs” on someone that way, but it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t be able to hear Jake’s thoughts at this distance whether he wanted to or not. Bella wondered how that was going for him but decided not to ask yet.

He stepped into the elevator behind her. “We’re on the top floor,” he murmured as he pushed in his key card. “There’s a nice view of the park.”

“Have you stayed here before?” Bella asked.

“Not for a long time.” Edward shrugged.

Bella couldn’t help noting thinking that his response seemed evasive. Perhaps he was teasing her? “How long is a long time?”

“Since it was new.” She expected to see a playful glint in his eyes, but she saw something like regret making them gloss over. Why would he—?

Oh. The age of the hotel was apparent in its design, and that would line up with his . . . rebellious period, as he had once put it.

“Why here,” she asked, “if the memories aren’t happy ones?”

The elevator door opened. Edward moved their bags into the small foyer, unlocking the door with his keycard. Momentarily, Bella was distracted by the space that greeted them. Vaulted ceilings were pierced with several chandeliers, and the main room stretched out before them. Tall windows framed a cloudy view of Central Park.

“Wow,” she mouthed.

“Sometimes it’s nice to make better memories in a place, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d like to make them with.” He smiled. “Its price also serves as a deterrent to large crowds. It’s by the park, and I thought you’d like the view, but there are other ho—”

“No, no. It’s great.” She briefly squeezed his hand, letting it go. He didn’t return the pressure, but she knew he wanted to. That much was apparent in his gaze.

“You have your pick of several beds.” He was grinning grinned at her nowthen. “Or you can try all of them.”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. Though it was lovely, it was stupidly ostentatious too. Abruptly, a somewhat sobering thought struck her. “Wait. Edward, it’s not all going to be like . . . this, right? I don’t need . . . ” While she’d learned to be more accepting of gifts, the thought of being the beneficiary of so much lavish spending made her uneasy. She wondered if it would for Jacob, too. 

“You don’t need . . . ?”

“So much.” She waved her hand, indicating the space. “I mean, I know we’re only here for a while, and I’m glad you picked this for reasons besides me, but I’m not—”

“Spoiled? A princess? In it for the money?” There was that twinkle in his eye she’d been hoping to see.

Damn. He knew what he was doing.

“Yeah.” Her cheeks felt hot.

The playful expression faded, replaced by a much more serious one. “I had more than one reason for choosing this hotel but mainly I want you to feel comfortable and safe. I was also seeking a degree of seclusion that would be difficult to find in the less exclusive hotels here. I’ve made some plans for after New York but I’d like to wait until we’re assured of our privacy to discuss it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or Jacob either, but I really think this is the best option for this part of our trip.” He brushed a hair away from her face without touching her skin. 

“Okay.” Her breathing hitched. He was so close. They were alone. She felt stupid with that awe that seemed to accompany such situations. She wanted things she couldn’t quite figure out how to make her body comfortable with.

A sharp ringing made her jump.

“Sorry,” Edward said. “That’ll be the clinic.” He looked in the direction of the sound. Bella couldn't find the source, but Edward moved towards it, his businesslike tone when he answered the phone sounding so much more mature than his supposed seventeen years of humanity should allow.

Pulling up the handle of her suitcase, Bella wheeled it towards the hallway to her left. Several rooms branched off the space, and she headed towards the one at the end.

Jacob’s reaction to his room would have been suitable in application to this one, too. Bright and airy, the bedroom featured a king-sized bed, several chairs, and a bathroom that would easily contain her bedroom and tiny bathroom from Forks together. Both the bedroom  _ and _ bathroom had a view of the park. She unpacked her things, most of which fit into two of the dresser’s smaller drawers. Her little toiletries kit was dwarfed in the en suite. 

“Nice choice,” Edward said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm,” Bella acknowledged. “Was that the clinic? What did they want?” 

“They were just confirming your appointment at ten tomorrow.”

_ What? _ “I thought that was just for . . . show.” She spoke uncertainly. Her registration had been necessary to cement this ruse, but—

Edward’s head tilted and he glanced to his right, as clear a communication of his uncertainty as she’d ever seen. “I thought . . .” He clamped his mouth shut and stuffed his hands into his pockets. When he looked at her again, he said, “I may have presumed too much. I thought what the clinic offered would be . . . helpful. Of course, it’s entirely your choice.”

Bella stared at him, blinking hard and wondering how they’d managed to find themselves with such different assumptions. She supposed that was the key word there, assumptions. 

Edward seemed to be thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry, Bella. This is my error. I assumed—”

“Me too. It’s okay.”

“Is it?” He pulled his hands out of his pockets, shoving back the sleeves of his shirt, now unbuttoned at the cuffs. He bunched the fabric to his elbows. She watched the muscles and tendons tighten in his forearms, and against her will, her body recoiled ever so slightly.

She wasn’t sure what he was asking. Was it okay that he’d assumed? That he’d thought she would go through with the treatment? That he was displaying a tiny portion of his physical strength in what was usually the most innocent of his practiced human gestures?

“Bella?”

He would not have missed her physical reaction. Now her forehead was wrinkled in concentration. She paused, considering his first suggestion. 

“They offer the best therapy for complex trauma there is.” He spoke very quietly, his hands now hidden again in his pockets. He leaned against the wall, a gesture meant to put her at ease, she knew.

Given the research she’d done on the centre, she was sure he was right and that they did have a reputation for such treatment..She’d just assumed that her being on their patient list was part of the cover she, Edward, and Jacob needed to establish. After completing her supposed treatment there, Bella would register for courses at a college upstate, letting Charlie think she’d decided to stay to study. In reality, they’d be miles away by then though. Jake’s fake sports scholarship at a nearby prep school would buy him time in Charlie’s eyes, too.

“Do you not feel that you would benefit from counseling?” At odds with his relaxed body, Edward’s face was tense now.

“No, I think I could, I just . . .”

“It would only be for a few weeks.” He so clearly wanted this for her. The thought made her muscles stiffen. Why? She tried to dig under her reaction, but she bristled with unexpected hostility. His desire for this treatment and the subtle pressure she felt as a result made her think of . . . Demetri.

She shuddered.

“Is there a reason you wouldn’t want to try it?” 

He was being so patient with her, but there were some real reasons to worry beyond her other inexplicable and surprising feelings. She cleared her throat. “I thought you’d be worried about my saying the wrong thing, or someone having questions about my physical symptoms.”

“Not at all. One Dr. Carlisle Cullen of Washington State is supervising your medical care. At least he’s signing off on your medical care while you’re here.” Edward wiggled his fingers, indicating he would be doing the physical signing. “You would only be working with the staff for mental health services, and any treatment plan would be based only on your specific needs and . . . experiences.” 

“Of course.” The powerful and confusing emotions continued to swirl in her midsection. She could only think of how good it would be to be free of them. Perhaps this could help? And Edward was  _ asking _ her. Trying to persuade her a bit, but still, he was only asking. It was her choice, and she knew it. More importantly, he was making it clear that he knew it too. Trying to shake off the stiffness in her shoulders and the feelings of resentment that seemed to bring it on, Bella pushed out, “Yes. I think it might help. I’ll go.”

His entire body seemed to melt into relaxation, his jaw and shoulders first and then his forearms. He was relieved. Her gut clenched with guilt. She’d made him worry. Here he was, trying so hard to help, to provide the opportunity to get better, and she’d only made him worry. God, she had so much to learn still.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “You needn’t be.”

She didn’t agree and forced herself to move forward and stand within arm’s reach, holding out her hand. Their fingers brushed, and she let her arm fall back to her side. “I’m still learning how to accept help when I need it, it seems.”

He smiled almost apologetically. 

She thought of all the hurdles that had come between her and recovery in more than the physical sense. How good it would be to be able to regain the ability to be as physically comfortable with Edward as they once had been. How she wanted that.

\- 0 -

Bella was sure she’d seen the start of the movie she’d picked to watch with Edward, but when she woke up, couldn’t remember seeing much of it. They’d been in New York for almost three weeks, and though her body was still tired much of the time, she was feeling much better emotionally. The daily counseling sessions had been remarkably helpful already, providing tools to use in altering her reactions to difficult situations and helping to guide her in her emotional responses. Despite her fear of saying or doing something that would create suspicion, she found the therapists exceedingly skilled and nonjudgmental when drawing her out but only eliciting as many of her experiences as she was willing to share in order to shape her treatment plan. 

Her afternoon together with her companions had exhausted her though. Determined to show her the city, even though Jacob had to tag along, Edward had taken them on regular and wonderful adventures to museums, shows, and bookstores; there had even been two or three neighborhood walks. Although the two men were probably never going to be what could be described as friends, Edward was a gracious tour guide who made a point of including both Jake and Bella in their group decisions. For his part, Jacob was unfailingly polite and seemed to appreciate Edward’s low-key generosity. But while Bella had not lacked for entertainment, and she’d enjoyed seeing Jake’s wide-eyed introduction to so many new things, she wished her body would catch up with her desire to be so adventurous.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, sitting up slightly and rubbing her hands over her eyes. She was resting partly on the couch and partly on Edward, objects soft and hard. 

“For what?” Edward asked.

“I picked a movie that I slept through. Talk about rude.” 

Edward shrugged. “You may have figured this out already, but I’m not here for the movies.”

She chuckled. “The thought may have crossed my mind.”

His laughter made her body rumble along with his. It felt nice. Leaning against him, she pushed herself up to kneel on the couch cushions, a wave of dizziness promptly making her lose her balance. As she tipped over into the slight depression his body made, his arms steadied her, and she brought one knee over his legs to straddle his lap.

Immediately realizing just how compromising a position she was in, her “Sorry” was muttered with regret smeared all over it. 

As she went to pull away, Edward’s hands settled on her back. “I’m fine if you’re fine.”

Her gaze snapped to his face. His eyes were a noticeable shade darker.

He was fine?

His fingers massaged her back gently, his palms cupping her waist. His gaze did not leave hers. “Are you okay?”

She had to think about her answer. As she’d been taught to, she let her awareness sink from her mind and travel down her body where it assessed her breathing, the subtle and pleasurable shiver in her skin, and then the heat that pooled pleasantly in her lower abdomen.

She was quite a bit more than okay.

“I feel good.” Leaning forward, her lips met his, soft against hard, a sweet kiss. The movement made her aware of something else unusually hardened between them.

Oh.

Her second “Sorry” in so many minutes was quiet.

Again, his grip tightened only slightly but enough to prevent her from bolting. “Please don’t apologize.”He leaned forward to kiss her again.

She let her muscles relax. It felt so good, kissing him like this. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his hair. “Mmm.” So soft. 

He groaned beneath her, his eyes closing.

The realization hit her, almost dispelling the shallow breath she’d just taken. She was giving him pleasure.  _ She _ was pleasuring  _ him _ .

She began teasing his hair with one finger at a time, stroking a trail back from the crown of his head down to his neck. As her torso shifted slightly, it brought together again other parts of their bodies much more sensitive than hands and hair. His hips moved ever so slightly in conjunction with hers.

Yes, he wanted this.

_ She _ wanted this.

She traced new patterns over his head and neck, feathering a teasing touch over his shoulders. The sound of his pleasured sighs spurred her to shift her weight again, and once more, a deep moan matched her own. 

This felt so good.

Their kisses came closer together, the rocking of their hips more rhythmic. Her hands continued to play a deliberate yet improvised melody over his back, his hips, his legs.

Her breathing was more ragged. She was very close to a sensation she hadn’t chased in a long time and never with him. As it came closer, she pulled away, arching her back, face to the ceiling so that Edward’s hands shifted, one cradling her back, the other cupping and teasing her breast.

She toppled over the edge of sensation, awareness crumbling with her arrhythmic breathing. When Edward’s hands suddenly disappeared from her body, she almost fell off of him but dropped her own hands forward onto his legs, feeling the spasms that rippled under her fingers and the wetness that spread through the fabric of his trousers.

Still panting from excitement and exertion, she stared at him, abruptly uncertain of what came next. They’d just—

His hands were still behind his head where he had forced them a few seconds before, but now he pulled her back towards him, kissing her, moaning into her mouth. It felt so good. His hands moved with as much surety as they had moments ago, and she realized that he was still hard beneath her. 

_ Vampire bodies _ , she reminded herself,  _ needed no rest. Apparently, not even with this.  _

On the other hand, she was exhausted despite having just slept. Her head was beginning to spin and not in a pleasant way. “I think I need to lie down.” Her breathing was still too quick. 

Edward stopped immediately, leaning back to look at her. She recognized the clinical expression on his face and then the anxiety. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m just—that was really amazing, and now I need to lie down.” Whoa. There was a violent spin in her vision.

She was prone in a second, Edward lifting her feet up on the sofa cushions. “I’m going to get you something to drink.”

From the sounds coming from the kitchen, she knew he was getting food, too. “I’m not hun—”

He’d already returned, a small plate of fruit and a glass of juice in his hands. “Then maybe in a few minutes. Here.”

She didn’t miss the fact that he was already wearing another pair of pants, and it made her smile. After sipping at the juice he’d brought her, her equilibrium returned, and she blushed slightly, thinking of what they’d just experienced together. “Talk about knocking a girl off her feet there, Cullen.”

She swore he would have been blushing if he could. She recognized the twitch of his cheek muscles. “I’m not sure what the corollary expression is for a man, but I share the sentiment.”

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	46. Argentina

A/N for 2020-11-20: Well, a happy Friday to you all. As always, my deepest thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their work on this story (and on my note here, because I had the wrong date!).

Reading: I'm currently enjoying the story Metaphysics by Anais Mark. The story is a Twilight AU that involves Eward leaving town not long after he and Bella meet, well before her suspicions about him evolve into anything dangerous. They meet again in London, where they find themselves both researching the same obscure poet.

\- Erin

* * *

Bella pushed down on the top of her suitcase, zipping it closed. She stared at the bag for a few moments before looking around the hotel room that had become something of a home over the last few weeks. Though she had said her goodbyes in Forks, this was the final step out of her old life, one to which she would not return. She thought she'd been on the edge emotionally when she'd hugged her dad goodbye. But this was it—no more phone calls and no more describing what was actually happening around her. She'd continue to send her father email, but it would be pure fakery, fading off at some point to some final, fabricated ending.

This was the true goodbye, and while the therapy had helped address so much of the emotional baggage she'd carried with her from Italy, she found herself grappling with a grief that she'd thought she'd already resolved. She felt foolish for being so naive.

_I love you, Mom and Dad, and I'm so sorry for what this is going to do to you._

She understood, only in part, but she knew what a gut-punching hole it would be for her father to think she had died.

"Months away," she told herself, but it didn't feel that distant.

"Ready?" Edward asked, appearing at the door.

No. "Yeah." There was no way she was ever going to be ready for this. She wiped at her eyes.

His hands slid around her waist, inviting an embrace. When she turned to face him, her tears dampened his shirt.

"He thinks you're off to school. He and your mother will be happy for you." Edward didn't need to say to whom he was referring.

"I know." Her words were muffled by his chest.

"But you're allowed to be sad about what's coming, too."

"I know." She wished this made it easier.

In the car, she clenched her hand around Edward's. Jacob rode in the front beside the driver, whipping his head back and forth, taking in the last vestiges of New York. He'd struggled with the never-ending noise of the city, but he'd loved its offerings, too. "Any hints on the next stop?" he asked, turning back to look at Edward.

Edward shook his head, eyeing the driver pointedly.

Jacob rolled his eyes but shrugged and faced forward again.

It was only in the privacy of the small airplane hangar that Edward finally spoke. "Argentina," he told them as they moved up the small set of stairs to the jet.

"Argentina?" Jacob sounded as surprised as Bella felt.

"Yes." Edward smiled apologetically.

"Like, Argentina—forever?" Jacob asked.

Edward's smile became something of a grin. Bella tried not to smirk. Jacob was still so . . . young. Her time away had aged her more than she wished.

"For now." Edward looked to Bella, and she smiled softly at him. He seemed to relax a little. Had he been worried about his choice?

Yes, she decided. There was a tiny pull in his cheek bones when he was nervous, and it was there now.

The trip was long. Bella wished she could have mustered more excitement for it, but she left most of that to Jacob, who looked eagerly out of every window, taking in the sight of the new continent and its mountains.

The next hangar they deplaned in looked much like the one in which they'd boarded, and though the large SUV waiting for them was white rather than black, it seemed similar, too. The dry air was welcome after New York's humidity, and the temperature cooled as the vehicle wound them through twisting and ascending roads.

Bella fell asleep at some point, waking to find the driver gone and Edward behind the wheel.

"Don't worry, he didn't eat him," Jacob said, having noticed her quizzical expression.

Bella rolled her eyes at the bad joke. "Thanks for clearing that up."

"We're almost there," Edward said, ignoring them both, "but we can stop, if you need to." She knew the suggestion was directed at her.

As was becoming habit, Bella swept her awareness over her body, checking on all her needs, particularly for any signs that the withdrawal symptoms might be returning. She squirmed a little in her seat, making sure she really was okay. Jacob had never witnessed Edward treating her addiction, nor did he truly know what it entailed and she didn't want to change that, especially not while they were in a car. "No, I'm okay." She was certain of it.

Still, Edward's worried gaze met her in the rearview mirror.

She smiled back at his reflection, mouthing, "I'm fine."

Edward nodded, but his focusgaze stayed where it was.

Even after all this time, his gazeless driving unnerved her, and she looked out the side window, taking in the alternating rocky or green terrain. Their route moved them further into the greenery, and soon they were flanked by tall trees on either side of the road.

"How far are we from a city or town?" she asked.

"Just about an hour from Salta," Edward said.

Salta. He'd given her a book on the airplane with the page for Salta bookmarked. It was a large city, very touristy. An interesting choice. There would be lots to do, if they wanted, but they'd have their privacy, too.

"We can certainly explore a bit, but we won't be able to spend a lot of time there," Edward said softly.

No, they wouldn't, not if they meant to keep a low profile. That was key.

When they finally pulled to a stop, it was in front of a house unlike any Bella had ever seen. Each rectangular block featured a strip of continuous windows through its middle, the rectangles stacked at alternating angles. Glinting at them from the lowest rectangle was the startling blue of water. It seemed to hover there, unconfined.

"Is that a—?"

"Glass-fronted pool." Edward smiled at Jacob.

"Whoa."

Bella could second that statement. The whole assembly of buildings looked like something out of _Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous_. At first glance, the house—if she could call it that—seemed large enough to be a small resort.

"It is a little visually jarring at first glance." Edward stood at Bella's open car door. "I promise the inside is more conventional." He looked apologetic again, holding out his hand for her to take.

Jacob stretched beside the car, looking towards the forest. "Mind if I—?"

"Not at all," Edward said. "Remember—"

"A half mile. I know." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but there was a tightness to the smile he gave Edward.

Bella waved at Jacob, watching him lope into the treeline. Then she smiled at Edward, trying not to let herself worry at this sign of Jacob's discontent. This would take some adjustment for all of them, especially now that they wouldn't have as many convenient distractions as there had been in New York.

"Conventional" was nowhere near any word Bella would use to describe the house's interior. As it appeared from the outside, each front section of the house featured unbroken views through the seamless windows that ran the length of every block. While the rectangular prism appeared to float in the surrounding greenery, each one ran back diagonally so that the whole structure was a wedge split into different levels and sections. Each staircase floated out in equally giant stone slabs from central concrete pillars that rose from the ground below. She revised her initial assessment. It wasn't like something from _Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous_ ; it was like something from a Bond movie—a crazy villain's equally architecturally crazy house.

She looked at Edward, bursting into laughter.

He lifted his eyebrows in response. "Well, that wasn't the reaction I expected."

She waved her hand toward the house. "I'm getting James Bond villain vibes."

He laughed. "Well, as I've been telling you for a very long time, I'm not the hero in this story."

His hands rested on her waist. He didn't pull her towards him, but she understood the invitation. Moving closer, she laughed again. "Oh my God, that makes me the ditzy and morally questionable villain girl."

Edward chuckled. "You're too smart for that. But . . . can I give you a tour of my Bond-villain lair?"

The house was furnished comfortably but with an eye to minimalism in keeping with the architecture. She liked the airiness of it all, the many skylights letting in an abundance of natural light. Nestled in the dimness between two blocks of sunlight was a piano. At first glance, it seemed small, but as she took in more of the space, she realized that the baby grand was merely dwarfed by its surroundings.

"There are guest quarters, too," Edward said. He led her down the stairs towards a small hallway that ended in a closed door, waving towards the entrance. "I thought Jacob would like to have a place of his own."

"Because the rest of this isn't big enough?" Bella asked, teasing him. She'd been mentally gauging the size of each space, and she'd easily seen something close to one of the museums they had visited in New York. Had she even seen the entire house, yet?

"Because this is more difficult for him than he's admitting—to himself or to anyone else." He did not smile or frown as he said this, but Bella knew the ring of truth in his voice and she sobered immediately. She'd seen as much with her own eyes.

"If this doesn't work, Edward—"

"This will work," he said, his voice determined. "Don't even think about giving up because there are some difficulties."

She paused to consider Edward's insistence. She'd known that this would be difficult—that there would be some bumps in the road. It was harder, though, when the bumps were in front of her friend and not her—her friend who had given up his life for the time being so that she could have one.

So far, their time away had been fairly easy for her. She thought of the therapy and all of Edward's efforts in supporting her. Jake had been included in as many of their other activities as possible, and she had spent a little time just hanging out with him while Edward had hunted for small game in nearby Central Park. Still, she knew in her heart it wasn't nearly enough to appease Jacob.

"Come for a swim with me?" Edward asked. She realized he'd been observing her while she was lost in thought, and now he was offering her a welcome diversion.

She shivered a little and not for any reason that was temperature-related.

"There's an indoor hot tub, if you prefer—"

"I'd love to swim with you," she murmured, turning towards him and standing up on her tiptoes. Their lips met in a kiss, and Edward moaned softly, the sound vibrating through her lips, his fingers flexing at her waist. There hadn't been a repeat of the intimacy they'd shared in New York days before, but Bella could well imagine there being a repetition now. Just the thought of it made her slightly dizzy—slightly more than dizzy, actually.

Edward pulled away with a soft "Sorry" on his lips.

"Why?" she asked, feeling a little stunned. It only took her a moment to realize why he was apologizing. Her lips tingled. His kiss had been more open-mouthed than they normally were, and—oh, right. She felt stupid for not having realized it immediately. The touch of his tongue had felt so natural, nothing like the treatment that was still so clinical. She shook her head. "Show me where in this villain-house a girl can stow her stuff and get changed?"

\- 0 -

Bella had passed her GED with high marks, and not wanting to lose steam by breaking her study pace, had immediately signed up for a first-year English course through a distance education program offered by an obscure college Edward had suggested.

She was reluctant to admit even to herself that she was regretting the choice. The assigned readings were interesting, but it felt laborious, slogging through the writing work. She looked at the books spread out over the dining table, the room's many skylights illuminating the texts. Nearby, Edward read in one of the upholstered chairs, one leg haphazardly slung over the armrest. She envied his ability to be so relaxed while reading, then almost laughed at herself when she realized that his posture was most likely entirely for her benefit. She rubbed at her face with her hands. She was finding it hard to focus and not because he was nearby. She was just so tired. Her mouth formed a yawn, and she fought to keep it back, blinking at the words on the pages before her. She fiddled with her pen, but try as she might, she could find no words for the essay she needed to complete.

In her peripheral vision, she watched Edward put down his own book and sit up straight, his gaze resting on her. She tried very hard to ignore him. After a few more minutes of attempting to shepherd her thoughts, she put down her pen.

"Would you like to take a break and go for a walk?" Edward asked.

"You can't really call it a break when you haven't accomplished anything," she mumbled, frowning. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry. That was really snarky. I'm—"

"Frustrated. I can tell." He was smiling gently when she turned to look at him.

She was. But she was tired all the time. They'd been in Argentina for two weeks now, and she'd hoped, as she'd hoped in New York, that she would finally cross that final threshold in recovery and not need any more venom. Her body remained stubbornly attached to it, and she required it at least every five days. The amount required remained undiminished, and despite Edward's attempts to lessen it, her withdrawal symptoms returned in force when he did so.

Even though Edward hadn't made specific reference to it, she also knew that her heart remained arrhythmic and weak, her varying energy levels testament to the irregularity of her blood flow.

It was a disheartening situation, and while she wasn't depressed, she struggled to make peace with this altered future. She was beginning to fear that things might never change.

Then there was Jacob.

She sighed again.

"Come on," Edward said, hopping up gracefully. "Let's go for a walk."

A walk. It was about all she could manage.

 _Stop it with the self-pity, Swan_. "Sure."

Several walking paths fanned out from the house, winding through the dense swath of trees. It was a very different sort of forest from the one she'd known at home, but she liked the crunch of the dry leaves and needles underfoot, and she liked even better the cool hand that kept custody of her own.

She'd stopped asking Jacob if he wanted to join them on these walks. He kept his distance from Edward though he would join Bella when Edward went hunting. They'd made a few trips into town, where Jacob seemed happier to be near other people. He was lonely, and while Edward assured her that Jacob would adjust, she wasn't as confident . It was a heavy weight on the pieces of happiness she enjoyed, and sometimes it was easier to let herself believe what she knew was the most optimistically framed truth that Edward offered her. Jacob might adjust, but she doubted he would be happy.

They were almost to her favourite ombú tree when the dizziness struck.

"Whoa." She put her free hand on Edward's shoulder, the world spinning as her knees gave out.

Edward's arms were around her instantly, helping her sit on one of the tree's thick roots. She put her head between her knees, waiting for the lightheadedness to pass. Edward's hand rubbed her back in slow circles. She'd given up on apologizing for the way her frailty interfered with even the simplest tasks.

_Pity party, much?_

She was alive and she was otherwise whole. _I'm damn lucky is what I am_.

The dizziness, though, was intensifying. They were four days out from the last time she'd had venom, and the itchiness growing in her skin told her that her body was insisting on early delivery for the next treatment.

She swore silently. Pity party or no, the withdrawal reminded her of what Demetri had done, and no matter how much she told herself that it was Edward touching her and no matter how many mental tools she had acquired from therapy, there was always a part of her brain that insisted on remembering exactly what Demetri's hands or other body parts had felt like.

"I think we need to go back to the house," she said, her voice quavering. What she really meant was that she needed him to carry her, and she was too miserable with the shame of her body's failure to say so aloud.

Without having to be asked, Edward lifted her, planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head and carried her back to the house.

\- 0 -

"I still can't believe you haven't seen _Goldfinger_. It's a classic," Bella said to Edward, plopping herself on the couch with her bowl of popcorn. After her repeated jokes about their Bond-villain abode, Bella had discovered that Jacob had never actually seen this Bond film either. In a rare display of camaraderie, he had agreed to Bella's request to watch the movie with her and Edward.

From where he lounged in an armchair nearby, Jacob hungrily eyed the bowl in her hands until she laughed and waved him over to grab his share.

Edward smiled at Bella, urging her closer with a gentle tug on her sleeve. She was happy to oblige him, going so far as to lay her head on his shoulder.

Back on the other side of the room, Jacob performed his typical eye roll, his mouth already full of popcorn.

Bella was determined not to fall asleep during this film. It had been something like a curse of old, not being able to get through an entire movie without waking up partway through. She'd armed herself with a nap earlier in the day, and the evening was still young.

She smiled in anticipation as the credits began to roll with the names of the actors and the roles they played. Then one particular character's name popped up and suddenly Jacob was laughing out his last mouthful of popcorn. "You have got to be kidding me!" It was pure delight to see him so animated.

"Nope." Bella's face already felt tired from smiling so widely. On top of seeing Jacob look happy, she was enjoying the novelty of being the only person familiar with the film and realizing how much fun it was to spring a surprise on both of them. How often was she in on something that neither Edward nor Jacob knew about? Like, never.

"When was this made?" Jake stared at the screen with a look of incredulity.

"Nineteen sixty-four," Edward replied automatically.

Bella lifted her head from his shoulder and stared at him. "I thought you said—"

Edward brushed his fingers lightly over her shoulder. "I haven't seen it, but it was a big deal. Ms. . . . _Galore's_ name was a particularly big deal for the time. And people thought about it a _lot_."

Jacob laughed again. "I'll bet!" He glanced slyly in Edward's direction. "Maybe I should think about it over the next few days."

Bella had already returned her head to Edward's shoulder so she couldn't see his face, but she would have sworn he was the one rolling his eyes this time.

The film progressed in all its dated and campy glory, and the popcorn was long gone before several characters were dead, and the protagonist was close to the final confrontation with his nemesis. She'd forgotten a lot about the film, which she supposed was fair, given that she'd watched it with Charlie when she was quite young. In particular, she didn't recall the scene that was now transpiring in front of her, the one set in a barn with the character of Bond involved in what seemed like a far-too familiar scenario playing in front of her. When he dropped his female opponent to the ground again, it was his knee pushing her legs apart that made Bella bolt inelegantly from the couch with a rushed, "I need some air."

Each block of the house was fitted with a glass-fronted strip of balcony. These clear railings had left Bella woozy the first time she stood near them, but she didn't notice the invisibility of the barrier now. The actor's smirking expression floated in her mind, confusing itself with the one on Demetri's face.

"This is now, that was then," she whispered to herself as she leaned forward, her head in her hands, drawing in deep lungfuls of air. She could practically feel Demetri's knee between her own. She repeated her mantra over and over again.

"Bella?"

When she looked up, Edward was standing by the door to the balcony, his feet planted in such a way as to show he wasn't moving anywhere.

"Just need some air," she said. She really did, along with a strong dose of selective amnesia. She closed her eyes again.

"Can I come out there?"he asked gently.

She felt herself cringe. . "Please . . . not yet," she whispered. The thought of rejecting him in any way was painful. She just needed time.

"Jacob's quite worried about you."

She swore silently. Beyond the Cullens and her therapist, she hadn't told anyone else about what Demetri had done. If she'd had her way, she would have erased the knowledge from all minds everywhere, particularly those of the Cullens. The fewer people who knew, the better, especially when she had anticipated the eternal memory that would have been hers once changed. Now . . . well, now she still didn't want people to know and remember for her when there was a chance the memories would fade. Why couldn't she just forget it all?

He spoke in a low voice. "I'm afraid he's drawn some accurate conclusions about why you're upset. Some . . . inaccurate ones as well."

She whispered her curse words now, tears streaming down her cheeks. She could hardly be angry with Jacob for making the connection although now she was also wondering about the "inaccuracy" of some of his conclusions that Edward had mentioned. Oh god, did he think that Edward . . . ? Clenching her hands into fists, she closed her eyes again, trying to regulate her breathing and at least calm herself. The technique didn't work, and she tried again. Hands tingling, she released her fists, opening her eyes to see alarming spots in her vision. A familiar itchiness was beginning in her extremities, crawling up her legs and arms to her torso. "Oh," she said, turning and nearly falling.

She was in Edward's arms before she could try to right herself. _It's now, not then_ , she told herself when her body tried to recoil from his touch. _This is the man who loves you, the man that you love._

She managed to calm herself with these thoughts long enough for Edward to get her inside, but just as he set her down on her bed, the panic overwhelmed her and she pushed him away unthinkingly. Her heart pounded, a ringing filling her ears. She couldn't breathe. Edward stood beside the bed, his jaw tight, his eyes moving over her like he was trying to decide what to do for her first. He began to shake. No. _She_ was shaking.

Then Jacob appeared behind Edward, and she couldn't understand the conversation between them. There were words and faces twisted with strong emotions and then two voices calling her name before she blessedly slipped into a blackness that felt like peace.

She woke to the sound of soft beeps and whooshes. Blinking, she alternated between the softness of the dark and the harsh brightness of the sunlit space surrounding her. Edward was a pale pillar beside her bed.

"Good morning," he said. The worried pinch between his eyebrows told her it had not been a good night—or nights?

"Hi." She was surprised that she could even form the syllable. She felt so slow, so weak. She could barely lift her arms although she was trying. While she was unable to ask Edward what had happened to her, speech became unnecessary when he read the question in her eyes.

Edward swallowed. "Your heart stopped."

It had? Again, this information filtered in slowly. She let her blurry focus wander, taking in the room. Ah. Right. There were several familiar hospital machines parked in various places. She recognized what they were from her hospital stay in Phoenix. Why didn't it surprise her that they were here? Then she moved her gaze and found the IV bag and line. What was he giving her?

As if he could hear the question—maybe he _could_ hear it?—Edward answered. "I've put you on some blood thinners and beta blockers. You're going to feel very woozy." His eyes were that mottled in-between colour. Hadn't they been lighter last night? How long had she been—?

"You've been unconscious since last night."

Edward adjusted a dial on the IV stand and then came closer, putting his hands on the bed. He leaned over her then, putting his weight on his arms and making the mattress dip. When he spoke again, his voice was husky with emotion. "I'd ask you to never do that to me again, but I'm not sure it's entirely within your control."

"Sorry," she murmured. She didn't like how he was looking at her or how she thought he was feeling. Her faculties were slowly coming together. Her heart had stopped. Whoa. "Was it . . . withdrawal?" Her words were barely a whisper.

"I think so." He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure what it would be otherwise. There was nothing else that Carlisle found when he was treating you at home. But yes, I think it's the effects of either the addiction or the withdrawal. It's taking . . . a toll on your body, Bella, one that I did not expect."

Again, she looked around the room at the machines, lifting her eyebrow as she did so, which required a startling degree of effort. If he didn't expect anything, what the heck was all this, then? It hadn't materialized out of thin air.

"Given our remote location, I wanted to be prepared for any eventuality." Either he could hear her again, or he had taken note of her perusal of her surroundings. She wasn't sure she cared which explanation was correct.

She wondered what else he had stored in the house, a nuclear fallout shelter? She giggled. Good Lord. Was she on morphine again?

Edward adjusted the IV dial again, his lips attempting a reassuring smile but failing.

She couldn't quite read the labels on the bags, but things were growing fuzzy again—intermittently black. She blinked, and the spaces became longer between the blinks, the light changing from white to black.

The next time she woke, it was with a growling stomach. Her limbs were her own to move again, though slowly, and she lifted her hand to her face. It felt strange, and when her fingers reached the cannula under her nose, she understood why.

"Jacob's bringing you something to eat," Edward said softly. He hovered by the bed, reaching his hand out tentatively.

She grasped it with her own, a profound sense of relief travelling up her arm and through the rest of her. With it came the memories of the film they'd been watching and her reaction to it and how Edward had told her that her heart had stopped. Clearly, it was beating now. She eyed the machines, a few of which she didn't recognize, but they were no longer attached to her. Although she was sure he was trying not to, Edward appeared tense and worried. Her heart _had_ stopped. That would be worrisome, especially to the man who was fighting harder than anyone to keep it beating. She dug through her knowledge of biology, trying to make sense of what she vaguely remembered of cardiac physiology from books or lectures, but there was so much she didn't know. She doubted Edward would tell her everything, especially if he thought it would cause her stress. Still, she didn't exactly have anyone else to ask.

"What does this mean?"

She caught only a glimpse of the pain in his eyes before he looked away and shook his head.

This was more than alarming. "Edward?"

Jacob arrived at that moment, carrying a tray. "Hi. Nice to see you awake."

Things must be really bad if Jacob wasn't cracking a joke. She looked back at Edward.

"You should eat something," he said softly, still not making eye contact.

The "Okay" that left her lips felt strangely raspy and dry.

It didn't take much of the soup Jake had brought for her to feel full. She pushed away the bowl on the tray, trying to catch Edward's eye. He was sitting in the chair next to the bed, but he was pretending to do something with one of the machines beside him. Jacob had vanished as soon as Bella had begun eating. Whatever it was they weren't telling her, it was bad.

"Carlisle's coming," Edward said, turning and facing her.

What? "But, I thought—"

"I've made all the arrangements for him, including a car to pick him up from the airport." Edward's expression was stoic as he said this in a flat tone. His eyes didn't quite meet hers but were trained on something slightly over her head. "I didn't tell him where we are, and the only decision he's made is to go to the airport in Seattle, so there should be nothing that will alert the Volturi."

When Bella didn't respond to this, Edward finally lowered his gaze and focused on her.

"I would bring in another doctor if I could, Bella, but I don't have a way to explain what's happening to you. If there is any hope of treating this, then Carlisle will . . . there isn't anyone else I can ask."

Any _hope_? "I'm dying?"

"No." Edward's hands were folded together and resting on the side of the bed. He was leaning forward and Bella couldn't help thinking that he looked as if he were praying. "No. Your heart is just . . . struggling right now to do what it needs to do."

Her heart was failing, and she was dying. And he was so terrified by this that he couldn't even bring himself to say it. She couldn't bear the look of helplessness on his face. Sliding her hand under his, she grasped it as firmly as she had strength for. "I'm here right now, and if Carlisle's coming, then things are going to be okay."

His features twisted into a pained expression. If he were human, she'd expect him to weep. Gently but abruptly, he pulled away, staring at the floor as he spoke. "I need to hunt. Jacob will come stay with you. He'll alert me if there is any concern."

Then he was gone, and Bella stared at the space where he'd been, her heart both beating and breaking for the man she loved.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	47. Kindest and Cruelest

A/N for 2020-11-27: You know who rocks? Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 do. You may thank them for this chapter being as spiffy as it is. 

A reader asked for the link to the story I recommended last chapter. Here it is: <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5728755/1/Metaphysics>

\- Erin

* * *

Bella was sleeping when Carlisle arrived, the inky night dark enough to match Edward’s mood. He resented the light the moon threw his way. There was not enough darkness to obliterate his despair. 

When Carlisle met Edward at the edge of the property, there were no recriminations, no angry remarks, and no questions. Carlisle simply embraced his son. 

As he held his father, Edward could only marvel again at the moral wonder that his father was. Even though Edward had abandoned his family without warning, Carlisle held no grudge. He was simply grateful to be near him. This feeling rippled over the worry he had for Bella. 

“She’s sleeping right now.” It was superfluous information. Carlisle had already heard the familiar sound of her heart—its off-kilter beat making it slightly less familiar but recognizable nonetheless.

“Jacob,” Edward said, when Carlisle considered the second heartbeat. The smell alone had told him it was a werewolf, and Edward had heard his father sorting through the scents of the ones he knew.

This was not a surprise to him either. 

“Alice can’t see us when we’re with him.”

 _Of course_ , Carlisle thought, moving beside Edward towards the house. _That explains the previous gaps in her visions._

As Carlisle looked at Bella and read through the information Edward had gathered, his thoughts only confirmed what Edward already knew, and it took all of Edward’s restraint not to bolt from the room.

Knowing that his son had already read his mind, Carlisle’s verbal “I’m sorry” was an indication of the sincerity of the sentiment. 

Edward looked at Bella and swallowed, the venom tasting bitter as he did so. He had loathed his nature before, but he could not quantify the loathing now. That his body instinctively responded to the notion of turning her made him cringe. They had worked so hard to spare her from this very fate, and now her choices were whittled down to this: death or deathlike—like him.

It was that stark realization that made him flee from the house, stopping at the boundary he had determined was the furthest point he could go without alerting Alice to their whereabouts. He couldn’t be certain that he had covered all his bases in getting Carlisle here without detection, but he had to believe that he had. He refused to even contemplate what failure would look like now when Bella’s life hung in such precarious balance. 

He stared at the ombú tree before him, taking note of its rippling roots as they were darkened and then illuminated by clouds and moonlight. He smashed his fist into the thick footing closest to him, watching the soft pulp explode. It was her favourite tree, not that it was even a tree. He didn’t care. He destroyed the next root and then the next. He’d shredded the entire trunk and limbs before Carlisle’s voice reached him.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted for her.”

Nothing of the tree was left to destroy, not that the action had brought him any satisfaction. It was useless to attack something that couldn’t even put up a fight.

There was no justice in the world, and there was no justice now. He would continue to exist but she would be lost to him forever, taken from him by her natural but cruel ending. Was this his recompense for his life? Had he sinned so greatly that he could have no happiness in this interminable night?

As he turned to face Carlisle, his rage found a convenient target. _You made me,_ he accused silently, _and you made me for this—for a life surrounded by endless death!_

And just like the ombú tree he had destroyed, Carlisle did not fight him.

With a roar, Edward sent his father flying, watching him sail into the splintering embrace of an exploding pine.

Calmly, always so calmly, Carlisle picked himself up and faced Edward. _I know you’re hurting._

Edward flew at him again. It was testament to his deranged state of mind that he didn’t even anticipate Carlisle side-stepping his mindless attack.

Carlisle _could_ fight him. With his own thoughts so disordered that using his gift wasn’t even an option, Edward knew that Carlisle could subdue him, too. He had before in his newborn days, and he remembered with something like longing the brutal way his sire had done it. He wanted that brutality now.

“FIGHT ME!” he roared. 

_It won’t help._ Carlisle’s face was creased with distress. In his thoughts, Edward saw his own wretchedness mirrored back at himself.

It _was_ pointless. With his initial volley of fury spent, the futility of any kind of protest was beyond obvious. His anger vanished, and like a balloon punctured, Edward’s rage deflated, and he crumpled to the ground, his hands yanking at his hair. The pain inside was worse than anything Jane had ever subjected him to. He was going to lose Bella, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“I can’t bear it, Carlisle, I can’t!” He rocked back and forth.

Slowly and carefully, Carlisle approached, crouching down beside him and wrapping him in his arms. Carlisle was remembering his own emotional struggle the day he’d found Esme, but it was nowhere near the anguished helplessness overwhelming Edward now. Even as his father sought to comfort him with thoughts of turning Bella, just as Carlisle had chosen to do for Esme all those years ago, Edward was shaking his head at the futility of the suggestion. “She doesn’t want that, and I won’t force it on her,” Edward said fiercely. 

Both of them considered Rosalie then, each with his own particular pain. Carlisle thought of how Rose was now—in the present—but Edward was remembering his talk with Emmett as well as his own awareness of the bitterness his sister still harbored. While her lingering hostility was mostly reserved for the men who had taken her human life, there were moments—ones he was never meant to be privy to and which he would never share—where it was directed at her sire for bringing her into this life. 

“No.” Edward was adamant. He pushed himself out of his father’s embrace and stood up, shaking his head as he began to pace, his chest hollowed out by the tortured knowledge of what was coming. As always, half his mind was attuned to the irregular beating of Bella’s heart. She was safe for now, but it didn’t matter. Her heart had been irreparably damaged by venom—by his or by Demetri’s, he could not tell. It didn’t matter. It would not beat for long. 

“They won’t kill you, Edward, if she dies,” Carlisle said, observing Edward’s distress and thinking of the Volturi and Aro. Their brutal ways and means were clear in his mind as he mentally discouraged his son from considering a repeat of his last visit to Italy. But Edward was too valuable to the Volturi to lose. Edward knew this. Carlisle knew this. If Edward attempted suicide via the Volturi, he would be forced to live and to serve them, his family members’ existence held hostage by Aro.

Underneath it all, hidden even to Carlisle himself, Edward was forming a much darker plan. “No. You’re right. The _Volturi_ won’t kill me.” 

Carlisle stared, his mind suddenly going blank with horror as he heard the implication in Edward’s statement. 

Edward uttered his next words with grim and bitter conviction. “ _You’ll_ do it.” And he could see the truth of it. Carlisle would not allow him to suffer at the hands of the Volturi again. It would be the kindest thing for Edward and the cruelest for Carlisle. But Carlisle would do what he asked out of love for his son, and a tiny part of Edward’s pain was lessened. 

\- 0 -

When Bella opened her eyes again, it was to brightness and then to the startling beauty of one Carlisle Cullen.

“Carlisle?”

“Edward will be back soon,” he said softly. He had on his gentle doctor’s smile as he raised the head of the bed so that she was upright. She was in a hospital bed now, she realized, looking around and noting that her former bed was nowhere in sight. Shifting her body a little, she felt less pain and discomfort than the other times she’d woken. How many times had that been? It was difficult to recall.

“Edward gave you a large dose of venom before he left. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.” Surprisingly so. A little light-headed and a little weak, but this was par for the course these days. In fact, she was hungry, too, and very much needed to use the bathroom. “Um,” she said , glancing towards the ensuite.

“Let’s see if you can walk there,” Carlisle said, his tone gentle.

She felt a wave of gratitude for his kind bedside manner as well as his discretion when he supported her only as far as the door to the bathroom. After taking care of her human needs, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Carlisle was here. She’d been too disoriented to grasp what his presence might mean when Edward had told her. Now though, she tried to remember what he had said. He had made Carlisle’s travel arrangements, so they might be safe for now, but what would happen once his father went home again? Could Carlisle really control his thoughts well enough to keep Alice in the dark, or would the Volturi soon know where they were as well as the fact that she was dying? Carlisle hadn’t said anything to contradict Edward’s initial diagnosis, and she knew that Edward would have told his father his worst fears, given the risk he’d taken in exposing them all.

She was dying.

And Edward wasn’t here. Edward was _gone._

Her heart began beating faster. She knew it from the clench in her gut and the way the room began to rotate.

“Bella?” Carlisle sounded worried.

She opened the door, keeping one hand on the jamb to balance herself. 

Carlisle didn’t ask before picking her up and carrying her back to the bed. The cannula was back under her nose before she was even fully reclined.

“Can you tell me what just happened there?” Carlisle asked. He was putting in—ugh, she looked away—another IV.

 _I realized I’m dying?_ “How long?” she asked. “Months? Weeks? Days?”

The careful mask that Carlisle wore flickered for a moment. He pretended to pat down the tape on the IV. She allowed him the pretense of the gesture, not taking her gaze from his face.

“I think you should—”

“How. Long. Carlisle?”

He frowned. It took him a moment to lift his own gaze to meet hers. “Weeks. Maybe two or three.”

Her head fell back against the pillow. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been working to keep it upright. Weeks. She’d hoped for so much longer. And Edward, he’d hoped for a full life for her—a life in hiding but a life nonetheless. She shook her head. This wasn’t fair. _Oh, Edward_ —and then she sucked in a breath. “Where is he?” She didn’t need to specify who.

“He’s hunting nearby. He’ll return shortly.”

Her mind spun with fearful suppositions. He’d tried to kill himself before when he thought she was dead. She’d only just managed to stop him then and at such a cost. Her heart raced along with her thoughts. Snapping her gaze back to Carlisle, she reached out and curled her hand around his wrist with all her strength. “No matter what happens to me, you can’t let him hurt himself!”

For the briefest moment, his eyes widened—just the suggestion of a widening, really, but it was enough for her to see the truth that he so obviously wanted to hide. He knew exactly what Edward would choose to do. 

“It will be alright.” Carlisle’s tone was as smooth as his lie.

No. It wasn’t enough. “Carlisle, I need you to promise me. Please. He loves and respects you. He’ll listen to you. You have to promise me you’ll make sure he’s okay and doesn’t hurt himself.” 

Carlisle laid a hand over hers where it still gripped his wrist and looked into her eyes. “Bella, please try to be calm. Yes, I will watch over my son.” 

She felt the relief building, ready to wash over her, but she couldn’t give in to it yet. He still hadn’t said the words she had asked him for. “So, you promise?” 

“I promise.” He was still looking at her, and his voice was quiet and calm. “I will do everything in my power.” 

Although his pledge was meant to soothe her, there was a nagging sense in the back of her mind that she had heard these words from him before. Suddenly, she remembered. Were they not the exact words he had used when Edward’s mother had begged him from her deathbed for her child’s life? Was he telling her now that he would do anything it took to keep Edward from harming himself, or was it the opposite? Was he in fact telling her that he would do everything in his power to ease Edward’s pain, including giving him what he had asked of the Volturi? 

Bella continued to hold Carlisle’s gaze, searching his eyes for answers while trying desperately to keep her inner turmoil from showing. She recognized the expression on his face because she felt exactly as he did. Either one of them would do whatever they could to protect Edward from any pain because they each loved him fiercely. Only Carlisle’s love was one that would allow him to physically destroy his son if he thought it would save him from something worse. In that moment, Bella realized that she was right to be afraid. Not only would Edward choose not to survive without her, but he had the means to do what he had failed to achieve in Volterra. Carlisle was not only able but also willing to help him if Edward’s grief proved too much for him to bear. 

As calmly as she could manage, she released Carlisle’s wrist, bringing her hand back to rest on her lap. She had a lot to think about now, but she was feeling very, very tired, too tired to even keep herself from blinking heavily. She fought the pull of sleep. “I’m sorry,” she said, meaning so much but only having the energy to utter those two paltry words in place of the many regrets she felt. 

\- 0 -

For him, it was the ultimate irony of her addiction. Though it poisoned her, regular application of his venom kept her symptoms and the strain that came with them at bay. He’d gone from the stingiest application every four to five days to bathing her with his tongue at the merest suggestion of symptoms. The tiniest distress strained her heart, and the withdrawal was her greatest source of discomfort at the moment.

He hated it.

He hated everything about it, and he struggled to conceal these bitter feelings from her.

So when Bella woke from another long bout of sleep, he had trained his features to lie to her. 

“Hey,” he said softly. He would not poison her final days with his bitter feeling. _Just your venom_ , he reminded himself disdainfully _._

She blinked and then eyed him, something like suspicion flickering briefly over her features. 

He held the mask in place, wondering if he’d missed some crucial aspect in his expression. Persisting in the lie, he brushed his hand over her hair, wondering if she was yet too tired to speak. Had she eaten while he was gone?

“Are you hungry?”

She nodded slowly, still watching him silently.

“Soup? Or something more substantial?” He wanted to hear her voice.

“Pop-Tarts.”

He smiled. He couldn’t help himself. Here she was. “Sure.” He could hear Carlisle opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen, looking for them. Though he hadn’t seen Bella eat them since before he’d left last fall, he’d made sure to have some in the house. Just in case.

Just in case.

It was only briefly, but his features fell, and he watched her watch him. 

“Can you get Jacob?” she asked.

_Jacob?_

What did she want Jacob for? “Of course.”

“I’ll wait.” She smiled a little and waved her hand over the bed. “Not, um, going anywhere. Promise.”

He pretended to smile again and then turned to go find Jacob. As expected, he’d already heard Bella’s request, and they met partway between his end of the house and theirs. 

“She cannot be stressed at all.” Edward nearly growled. 

“I know.” Jacob eyed him darkly, and in his thoughts, Edward heard the surprise and resentment at his harsh tone.

Edward sighed. “Please excuse my behaviour and my words. I am—”

“Upset. Worried. I get it. We all are.” Yes, Jacob was all that and more. Edward could see it now that he was paying closer attention, watching Jake’s mind replay the moment Bella had collapsed on the balcony and how Edward had carried her inside where Jacob waited to confront him, wrongly, on Bella’s behalf. The memories and images that followed, of the moment her heart had stuttered briefly and fallen silent, of both of them calling her name before Edward had commenced CPR with icy determination—no, Edward didn’t need to relive that with him now. 

“I don’t know why she wants to see you, but please be . . .” Be what, exactly?

“I’ll be careful.” He walked warily past Edward, stopping by the kitchen and taking the tray Carlisle had prepared. 

Edward listened as Jacob approached the room and Bella.

“Hey,” Jacob said, nudging the door open with his shoulder. “I figured I’d come eat these in front of you,” he teased, setting the tray down with a wink.

“Get your own Pop-Tarts,” she said playfully, attempting to swat at his hand when he pretended to take one. If he had noticed that her hand hadn’t even left the bed, he didn’t show it.

The self-loathing swirled in Edward’s gut, morphing and growing. How easily Jacob could be with her, and how much Edward envied their equally easy banter. _He_ wasn’t poisoning her.

Jacob was silent for a bit, pretending to look around the much-changed bedroom. He was curious, too, trying to piece together the purpose of each machine. More subtly, he listened to Bella’s heart, taking in her altered appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was paler than usual. She would have no more rosy cheeks, Edward realized along with Jacob. Not now—not with her heart failing. The medication would help temporarily, but the venom . . . it would continue to erode her heart’s functioning. And ultimately—

“I don’t think you’ll need to be here for very long, Jake.” She looked apologetic as she said it. 

“Getting tired of me already, huh?”

She smiled weakly, shaking her head, all joking gone. “You’re the best friend anyone could have, Jake. Really. You’ve always been there for me.” She fingered the bedding and then put her cool hand over Jacob’s warm one. He didn't like how cold her fingers felt, and Edward could hear him wondering if it was the venom or her heart or both. Jacob, too, was struggling under a weight of sadness. She was dying. 

Edward leaned against the wall in the hallway, sliding down to drop silently onto the concrete floor. He carried a double weight of grief, his and Jacob’s together.

Jacob struggled to find words. He was near tears. He felt the same way about Bella, only . . . there was more to his friendship. Edward had always seen it for what it was—a longing that the boy knew would never be returned. 

Bella squeezed Jacob’s hand. Edward could see the effort it took. She’d need more venom soon. It would halt the tremble in her fingers and briefly steady the beat of her heart.

“But I’m going to ask for even more from you, and I’m going to ask for something you won’t like.”

Jacob tensed and so did Edward. What was she going to ask for? Thoughts like his own, of a quick end, made him stand up quickly. No. She wouldn’t, would she?

But no. She spoke softly. “My heart is going.”

Jacob swallowed. “Yeah.” His voice was raspy with emotion.

“I have a few weeks, at best.”

Jacob nodded. Yes, he’d heard.

Bella studied her friend’s face, her expression shifting subtly. Was it relief? _Good Lord!_ Edward thought, even more alarmed. _Was she suicidal?_ He was readying himself to bolt towards the room when she spoke again.

“If I die, he’ll try to kill himself.”

Jacob thought how he might be willing to help with that, and Edward stowed away this bit of information. If Carlisle failed, if he was unable . . . it was useful knowledge to have.

“Do you want me to promise not to do that?” Jacob asked. He would obey her wishes, no matter what she asked of him.

Edward swore silently, still tense and waiting to hear her request.

“You said that when you changed into a wolf, you made a choice to let Sam be the pack leader, right?”

Both Edward and Jacob were confused by the change in direction.

“Yes.” It almost sounded like a question.

“Does that mean _you_ should be the leader—the alpha?”

“Yes, but—it’s, well, it’s kinda a moot point.” Jacob didn't want power. He knew the responsibility that came with it. “But yeah, I should be, I suppose. Sam was already there though. He’s . . . he’s a good leader, Bella.”

“Hmm.” In Jacob’s thoughts, Edward watched Bella smile a little. 

What was she doing?

“Then you can alter the treaty, right? The one with the Cullens?”

“Yeah, I guess. Are you worried about them, Bells? They’ve kept the treaty; they won’t be in danger. Not from us. Not after—” _Not after you die_ , Jacob thought. The words stabbed at both Jacob and Edward.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He was testy in his grief, offended that she would doubt him.

“Good,” she said. Her shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s good. Because that means you can give permission for me to be changed.”

“What?” Both men thought it though with remarkably different emotions attached to the word. Only Jacob uttered it out loud. 

“I don’t want to die.” She stared at Jacob.

Edward’s mouth opened and closed in shock and confusion. Where had this come from? She hadn’t wanted this. All their careful planning had been to avoid this. What had—?

“Carlisle,” he said urgently, knowing his father was nearby, “what did you tell her?”

Redirected from his own eavesdropping by Edward’s question, Carlisle’s thoughts cycled through his brief conversation with Bella. Edward clenched his jaw as he listened to the information she had demanded of him. And as he heard the words his father had unthinkingly spoken aloud—words whose meaning Edward knew would have been obvious to her—he watched the recognition appear in Bella’s eyes and then the understanding that followed. She knew. Of course she knew. 

Edward’s footsteps rang in his own ears as they carried him towards her and Jacob.

“No,” he said to Bella without preamble as he burst into the room. “You will not do this for me.”

Her heart rate ticked up a notch. Nothing dangerous normally, but now . . . 

“Would you prefer I died?” She stared at him, her chin tipped up in defiance, and he understood that she meant the question in complete seriousness.

“I will not see you damned against your will.” He wouldn’t. Not ever. He made his tone soften before he spoke again. “But I’ll go with you when and wherever you go.”

“So suicide pacts are cool, but we’re taking living forever off the list of options?”

Was she joking about this? He curled his hands into fists as Bella’s determined stare continued to meet his own.

Abruptly, she turned to Jacob again. “Will you?”

Edward wasn’t the only one who was angry, and he was just now realizing the true volume of resentment Jacob felt towards him. Combined with the young wolf’s helpless fury at the thought of losing the woman he believed himself in love with, it was a powerful combination of vindictive rage—all directed at Edward.

“Will you respect what I want?” Bella asked him again.

If Edward had ever underestimated Bella, he knew he’d underestimated her now. She’d known Edward would hear her request, and she’d have known how it would anger him, given all that they had done to keep her from this fate. If the two of them had planned it together, his storming into the room to tell her what he would not allow could not have been timed more perfectly. Jake might have been undecided before, but he wasn’t any longer. 

“Yes.” Jacob turned to face Edward, daring him to challenge his answer.

“I won’t do it.” Edward growled at both of them.

Carlisle’s voice was soft as he spoke from the doorway, but it rang with quiet authority. “Then I will.”

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	48. A human life

A/N for 2020-12-04: I'm grateful to be fairly well and whole today, barring some minor age-related discomforts. It seems more and more important in the midst of this pandemic to be that - grateful. I'm also very grateful for Chayasara and Eeyorefan12, the two of whom practically wrote a novel this week via the comments on this story. I learn a lot from them, and I'm very grateful for their efforts.

Happy reading, all. See you next week.

\- Erin

* * *

The room fell silent. Bella caught Carlisle’s quick glance at her before his gaze settled on his son. She’d never seen Carlisle so visibly anxious. Jacob just looked angry. And Edward—Edward was an emotionless statue. 

Her heart rate began ticking upwards, a possessed metronome for some monstrous symphony. She and everyone else in the room had just betrayed Edward, betrayed everything he’d worked toward.

Whereas Edward’s last words had been a growl, now they were soft and gentle. “I need to treat you, Bella.” He looked pointedly at Jacob and then Carlisle.

Carlisle disappeared first and Jacob followed, both with wary gaits and stiff shoulders.

Edward’s eyes were a bright gold, and she focused on that aspect of him as he moved closer. The rest of his body was tight with a mixture of feelings she did not have to work too hard to imagine: anger, betrayal, worry.  _ This is Edward _ , she told herself, feeling the fear beginning to stir in her gut. Despite the assurances of her mind, her body was wary, believing no vampire safe, especially one so obviously stirred by such strong and negative feelings. So when Edward’s hand slipped under her back to help her sit up, she flinched.

Edward stopped moving, finding her eyes with his gaze. “When you’re ready.”

She forced her head to move in a slow nod, her breathing still too quick.

It was testament to his alarm that Edward took this disingenuous movement as a sign to begin, not even asking her permission before he brought his tongue to the base of her neck.

Her body finally relaxed under the influence of the venom, and she resented again her corporeal refusal to listen to her mind. She trusted Edward. She just couldn’t get her body to do so consistently.

Very slowly, because she was weak and woozy, she brought her arms up so they circled his back. The effects of the venom made it so hard to focus, even on this. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you don’t want me to be like you.”

He trembled slightly in response. She couldn’t see his face, and he didn’t stop moving his tongue. She supposed he was too worried to do so.

“I didn’t want it either, Edward, but . . . my reasons not to be changed aren’t good enough anymore.” Her voice shook with emotion. “I want to be with you.” 

Another shiver in his back. 

“Please say something.” She closed her eyes, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks. She couldn’t stand the idea of his dying because she would, but the thought of him leaving her emotionally was even more brutalizing. He might, she knew, given what she’d just done. She’d betrayed him again.

“This is keeping you alive right now. I need to finish.” He kept licking.

“Okay.” She tried to blink away the tears, clinging to him still, afraid that if she let go she’d find him gone. Afraid that he might not come back. She struggled to hold onto consciousness. “I don’t want to lose you, Edward. Promise me you’ll stay, no matter what. Don’t leave me.” She was in no position to make demands, but her desperation pushed words from her mouth. “Please. Tell me you’ll stay. Please.”

Abruptly stopping his work, he cupped her cheeks with his hands and held her so she was forced to look into his concerned face. “I have already promised you that I will not leave you—I never will. I meant it then, and I’ll mean it always.” He brushed his hand over her hair, his eyes never leaving hers, the intensity of his gaze daring her to disbelieve him. “ _ Never. _ ” Then he leaned forward and kissed her, nudging her lips open with his tongue and making her forget everything else.

She slept or she was unconscious. She wasn’t sure, but her sense of hearing lingered near consciousness, and as her thoughts meandered through hazy recollections of the last day’s events, it was caught up in the sounds that filtered through her dreamlike state. A slow and mournful melody made its murky way through her thoughts, tinkling bright phrases recalling a string of notes she’d heard before. With the most focused concentration she could manage, she tried to chase the music, attempting to follow it to its conclusion, but it didn’t seem to end, maddeningly cycling through itself over and over again, the tonality sliding from major to minor to some atonal bastardization of the melody. When she finally sank beyond its reach, it was to a deep oblivion, so much so that she wondered if she was actually dying. Even that terrifying thought was not enough to rouse her from the full rest her body finally demanded.

The sun angled into the house from the side opposite from when she’d last been awake. When she moved her arms, they didn’t ache, and as Bella cast her awareness over her body, she realized that she felt . . . well, better than she’d felt in some time. As she shifted her legs and began to move, she noticed that she wasn’t in the hospital bed anymore. Blinking, she took in the room. The medical equipment was gone. She was in the bed she’d been sleeping in since they’d arrived, and Edward was perched at its foot facing her, his legs crossed and hands folded together. He reminded her of a statue of an angel, his beautiful face carved with sombre features.

“You shouldn’t need any more treatment beyond what I can do,” he said calmly.

The morning’s events came rushing back to her. She presumed it was the same day though she supposed it really didn’t matter.

“Okay,” she said, suddenly nervous. She had betrayed him in seeking Jacob’s assent and in doing it in such a way that Carlisle would choose to involve himself.

He returned to his marblelike pose, and she looked down at the bedspread, trying to figure out how to navigate a conversation that felt like walking through poured concrete.

“Are you angry with me, Edward? I’ll understand if you are.” It felt brave when she lifted her gaze to find his.

“You think I should be angry with you?” he asked.

She nodded slowly and warily.

“Oh, Bella.” He shook his head. “I am angry with . . . the universe. With fate. With Demetri. With the Volturi. With—I am not angry with you.” He stretched out and crawled on his hands and knees to come sit beside her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

Taking in a shaky breath, she released it along with tears of relief, returning his embrace. “I love you so much. I don’t want to leave you. We haven’t had enough time—”

“We have not,” he whispered into her hair, his lips planting another kiss there.

When he pulled away, there was still sadness in his features. “I have always wanted you to have a full life—a human life—and you have been robbed of that in great part because of . . .” He sighed, shaking his head.

He didn’t need to say why they were where they were. She knew. But she was glad that he didn’t take it all on himself. They had both made choices that had brought them to this point. 

Bella smiled a tiny and rueful smile. “Yes, I know. You have always wanted that for me, even when I thought I didn’t want it for myself. Not that I think you’ve forgotten—perhaps it’s been buried in the more recent past, but I asked for this before, Edward. Until a few months ago, I would’ve given anything to be like you. It’s only because of how much you loved me and wanted to protect me that I am not one of you now because I begged you for it even before I knew what I was asking for. It was . . . well, we’re back at the beginning, in some ways.”

“You weren’t dying then,” Edward said.

“Not this quickly, no.” She smiled at him again, more wryly than ruefully. There were so many things she could say—how she’d felt like every moment she was changing and growing older was time she was another step closer to a final parting; how it had made her need to be changed so much more immediate.  _ Still, that was then and this is now. _ And before her, she had the man she loved who was struggling with watching her lose the life he’d worked so hard to preserve against such great odds.

She put her hand on his chest. “I know my human life has to end, but I’ll be creating a new one with you.”

His fingers wiped at the tears on her cheek, tracing her jaw and then the length of her neck. She felt her skin heat with the flush of feelings that his touch raised. “I will not minimize what you know of my kind, but every single person in my family will disagree with you about this simply being an exchange of one life for another. Don’t think there isn’t grief and loss in becoming what we are, Bella, because there is. So much.”

“I’ve gotten a pretty good idea of what grief and loss look like in the last year, even breathing and human and everything.” She smiled weakly. “You never lied to me about this part, Edward. You always told me there was a darker side to being what you are, and I refused to believe you. I just . . . all I knew was how much I wanted you. But Demetri and Aro set me straight. Seeing what the Volturi are capable of made me afraid to be like them.”

Edward frowned before he looked away briefly and then back at her. “And after seeing all of that,  _ experiencing  _ that level of cruelty _ ,  _ you want this life? To be what I am? Like them?”

“But I won’t be like them. I’ll be like you, like Carlisle and Esme, Alice . . . all of you. I’ll be someone strong enough to deny her nature and still have the ability to love someone with everything I am. That’s who I want to be. I look at you and your family, and I see how each one of you would sacrifice for the other . . . and  _ are  _ sacrificing right now for both of us. Out of love. And if becoming like you means I will be someone capable of that, then I’m okay with it. Because of you, I have a choice. I choose this. I choose you.”

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before dropping his hand back into his lap. “Then surely, knowing how much you have already sacrificed and how much more you are offering to give up now, you can see that I’m struggling to believe this is what you really want, that you aren’t doing this for me?”

Bella spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable. “Edward, I love you. I want  _ you _ . Would I choose this without you? I honestly don’t know, but we wouldn’t be here now if we hadn’t fought for each other. Right now, immortality with you over death sounds like a pretty good deal.”

Edward studied her for a moment. “Have you really been thinking that I would rather you be  _ dead _ than immortal?”

She wanted to joke, to say something like, ‘I kinda wondered, given the reaction,’ but didn’t, whispering instead, “I haven’t been sure what to think.”

The pretense of his smile disappeared. “I’m sorry for how angry I’ve been, Bella. I am struggling, not because I don’t want you—I so very selfishly want you to be with me forever—but I am still angry that your life is being taken from you. I grieve it deeply, and at the same time, I loathe my own happiness at knowing I won’t ever have to lose you.” He frowned again. “There will be no children, no family—”

“I’ve never wanted children, Edward. And I will have family with you.”

His frown persisted. She suspected he was holding back arguments like the ones he’d made before, that she was barely out of childhood herself. How could she even know of those longings?

Well, there wasn’t exactly time for her to experience those longings now.

“You’ve always told me that all you want is for me to be happy. Even when you’ve made choices for me, right or wrong, your motives were always to keep me safe and give me a full life, as you call it. I believe that of you. Now it’s your turn. I’ve made my choice, and I’m asking you to believe  _ me _ . I want this, Edward. I want a life with you.” 

He nodded, the uncertainty on his face not quite resolved, but she had the feeling he was getting there. She hoped so because she wasn’t quite done with all she would ask him for. She reached for him again, and he followed her lead, gathering her up into his embrace on his lap. They stayed this way for some time, he nuzzling the top of her head, she feathering her hands over his forearms. It was comforting to be together this way.

“There has never been a question of me wanting you,” Edward murmured. 

She sighed in relief. It was still so easy to be insecure despite all they’d been through.

Part of that insecurity nudged at her now, and she was glad that her face was hidden from him. It felt like too much to ask him this now, but if she didn’t do it immediately, she feared her courage would falter later. The question she wanted to ask needled her gut. 

_ He wants you _ , she reminded herself.  _ He wants to be with you. _

“Edward?”

“Yes?” His nuzzling continued. 

God, how  _ did _ she ask? “Would it—would it be too much—I know my blood is—I know . . .” She sighed in frustration. 

“What is it?” He leaned back a little so they could look at each other.

“Could it be you who . . . changes me? Not Carlisle?” She held her breath, too anxious for the answer.

He blinked once as he watched her for a moment. “Breathe,” he commanded gently.

She did, shakily releasing the air. 

“You want  _ me _ to change you?”

She nodded quickly, nerves silencing her words. 

“You’re afraid I’m going to say no.” His arms tightened around her again. “I’ve given you so much reason to doubt me,” he mused aloud, “but my answer is yes. I will do it if that’s what you want.”

She let out another breath. “Thank you,” she said, leaning into him, allowing herself the respite of relief. 

\- 0 -

It was an awkward dinner for Bella, sitting together with Jacob, Edward, and Carlisle. Everyone was very quiet. Bella hadn’t expected Jacob to join them, but here he was, trying to look interested in the food Edward had prepared. Bella struggled with the same task. She just wasn’t that hungry anymore. Still, she poked at her food and forced herself to consume some of it. 

Ever mindful of Edward and his body language, Bella noticed the subtle stiffening in his shoulders paired with a sidelong glance at Jacob.

“What?” she asked, looking first to Edward and then to Jacob.

Edward frowned slightly at Jacob but then softened his features for her. “I think it’s best to discuss it openly.”

Jacob sighed but nodded. “Bella, I don’t want to be here when it happens.”

“When what . . .?”  _ Oh _ . Of course he didn’t. Right. “I understand.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Um, will you go home?”

“No.” He didn’t look at her, still nudging his food around on his plate. “I’ll . . . still be close so they can’t . . . ” He shrugged.

She reached across the table to take his hand, but he pulled it away.

“Don’t—”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t be sorry.” He met her gaze. “I don’t want you to die, Bells. I just—I’m still wrapping my head around . . . this.” He stood up, nearly toppling his chair. “Thank you for dinner. Excuse me.” Picking up his plate, he retreated to the kitchen, and then Bella heard his footsteps fading down the long hall that led to Jacob’s private quarters, not that they would be his for long

She thought of how difficult it had been for Jacob to stay with them, even after all his early optimism—his very youthful stoicism. He must be relieved in some ways, being freed of this obligation but feeling guilty too. And that was when she realized what such feelings must be spurring him to do. She turned to Edward. “I’m not going to see him again—before it happens, am I?”

Edward answered by curling his hand around hers.

Awkwardly, she wiped her face with her other hand. The tears came so easily now as did exhaustion.

“This part sucks,” she said.

Edward gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “It’s a lot for him to deal with, not only seeing you ill or in pain, but it goes against his nature to choose not to protect you. We, Carlisle and I at least, are supposed to be his mortal enemies. We are all asking a great deal of him.” 

“Yes.” She hadn’t really thought of that part of it until Edward said it, but Jake was her friend, and he’d given his permission for the thing that would keep her from truly dying. It was also the thing that could make her, as Edward suggested, Jake’s mortal enemy. She couldn’t help thinking he was a better friend than she had been in this. “Isn’t there anything we can do to make any of this better for him?”

Edward shook his head. “Not beyond giving him the distance he’s asking for.” She wondered if Edward preferred that distance as well. Having a disapproving audience for what was to come probably wasn’t high on his list of preferences either. 

With a sigh, she returned her gaze to her dinner plate, which disappeared when she blinked. Carlisle had also left the table, and from the sound of the water running in the kitchen, she knew he was cleaning up.

Men who cleaned up. She smiled a little at this notion, thinking of her father. As with all thoughts of him now, it stabbed emotionally. He would be okay, she told herself. He would.

“How long can we wait?” she asked.

Edward’s hand still held hers, and he rubbed his thumb lightly over the back of it. “Even with your medication and treatments, a week, possibly a few days more before it’s no longer safe to wait.”

A week. She repeated the words in her head. As a child, she’d counted her time away from home in weeks. A few weeks with Charlie each summer, sometimes in Forks, sometimes in sunnier locales. The weeks had been interminable then, feeling like they’d stretch forever, keeping her from home and the undiluted sun. And yet, those weeks had always managed to shrink down to that final day or night. It had been reassuring then, knowing the seemingly insurmountable length of days would end. Now, though, the week before her felt very, very short. Time was not a reliable friend.

With this fresh understanding came a loud shushing in her ears, her heart beating its blaring and unfaithful rhythms. She counted out the long and steadying breaths she took, marshalling her body’s tempos back into line. There was not much time remaining to her, and the things she wanted in her limited days were becoming much clearer. “I’d really like to watch the sunset. Can we sit outside for a little while?” she asked.

“Certainly.”

Edward carried her to one of the loungers that dotted the veranda, holding her as they watched the light melt into the horizon. 

“You know, the sun will still set when you’re changed,” Edward said, cocking an eyebrow at her. 

Bella chuckled. She hoped it was a good sign that he had just teased her a little, but she let her gaze drift over his face, just to be sure. 

“It will,” she agreed, ignoring the horizon, keeping her eyes on him and fiddling with the top button of his shirt, twisting it against the tether of its threads.

“But I have a feeling you didn’t want to come outside just to admire the sunset.”

Her cheeks warmed. No. She hadn’t. With a tap to the button’s front, she pulled her hand away and looked into his eyes. “No. I wanted to ask you for something.”

Edward had kept his arms wrapped loosely around her since they’d settled on the chaise. Now he curled one of his fingers around a lock of her hair, releasing it to twirl away and then capturing it again to repeat this gesture. He seemed so calm. “I can tell that you’re quite anxious about whatever it is.”

That was an understatement. It would be useless to deny it. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t see and hear the physical signs for himself.

“It isn’t a pony, is it?” 

“What?” Startled out of her tense contemplations, if Bella hadn’t already been looking at him, she would have missed the glint of mischief in his eyes before it was gone again. Still, he couldn’t quite hide his struggle to contain his smile as one side of his mouth twitched with the effort.

“I was just wondering if that was what you were going to ask for.” Edward continued speaking as if they were discussing something completely mundane, both his expression and tone all mock seriousness. “Although I’m not sure it’s feasible at this point in time since—” 

Playfully slapping her hand over his mouth, Bella couldn’t help the half-laugh, half-sob that burst out of her. For someone who wasn’t given to silliness, he couldn’t have picked a better moment to try to alleviate the tension. Although his mouth was still covered, Bella could feel Edward grinning behind her hand and see his eyes twinkling at her. God! How she loved him. Surely that love could help keep her strong enough to continue the conversation she’d brought him here for.

She changed her mind now about not touching him while discussing this, removing her hand from his face and weaving her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, wishing it was long enough for her to grab. Even with the brief respite from the heaviness of the moment, her damn heart still thudded irregularly with nervous energy. She swallowed hard and locked her eyes with his. “Edward, I . . . want to be with you—I want us to be together, before I’m changed.”

The tiny pucker between his eyebrows smoothed out as his eyes widened slightly. “Together . . .”

“Yes.”

After watching the understanding dawn on his face, she grasped just how selfish her request was, and she immediately regretted asking him. He’d never wanted that for them, had never even suggested it. Yet, here she was, twisting his arm with what was essentially a deathbed request. Why had she said anything before really thinking about it? 

“I’m sorry—that was—it’s not—”

His fingers snaked into her hair, mirroring the position hers had in his. “It’s a perfectly reasonable request, especially—” He furrowed his eyebrows again. “It’s entirely understandable.”

Her guilt doubled. He was rationalizing her request, and he was going to acquiesce because she was dying. 

“Please don’t say yes out of guilt.” 

His lips twitched briefly in a smile. “Why do you want this, Bella?” he asked, serious again.

How he could confound her. “It—never mind. I shouldn't have asked. I’m not thinking clearly—”

“Take all the time you need to think, but I want to know the answer.” He smoothed his hand over her hair, letting it come to rest on her back.

She groaned, putting her face into her hands. “Edward, I meant it. I shouldn’t have said anything—”

Though his voice was gentle, there was a firm edge to it. “Tell me why, please.”

Letting her hands fall to her lap, she sighed. It really wasn’t fair to withhold an answer. Regret made her stomach churn. “When I’m changed, I know that I won’t care about much beyond blood for the first while—that there’s a very good chance I won’t be interested in  _ anything _ besides that.”

Edward nodded, encouraging her to continue.

It was harder to say the next part, despite all the progress she’d—they’d—made. “I’ve wondered what it would be like to be with you when I’m not in the throes of blood lust. But I . . .”

“But you . . .?”

“I also don’t want to remember—I don’t want to remember what Demetri did. I want a stronger memory than that—a better one. But it’s—I don’t know if that would work, and it isn’t fair to you for me to ask because let’s face it, if I ask for anything at this point, I know you’re going to try to make it happen. I’m sorry for saying anything.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, still studying her face quietly to the point that she looked away, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“I think you’re labouring under a misconception.” He put the tip of his finger under her chin, lifting it gently to turn her gaze back to his. “Yes, your human body is dying, but you’ve asked me to change you. Remember, I’m the selfish creature that wants you to be forever—and now I get my way. I have extraordinary guilt over that, but as for the leverage you imagine your request holding—you’re wrong.” He grinned his beautiful tilted smile that made her stop thinking. “Do I want you? Do I want what you’re asking? God, yes.” The smile disappeared. “Am I still anxious and terrified of hurting you by doing so? Absolutely. But I think, given the progress we’ve made, that we can try—with the emphasis on the word  _ try _ .” 

Bella stared at him, blinking in amazement.

“Please, take a breath” he said, sounding amused.

She did, still staring. Was it really going to be this easy? 

“For the second time today, my answer is yes.”

Her capacity to speak fled as quickly as had her ability to breathe, so she leaned in and kissed him, her quiet moan matching his. She tucked her head under his chin, and he rested his cheek against her hair. 

“But a pony would be easier,” Edward mumbled under his breath. 

This time, Bella laughed with more energy than she had to spare or had felt in some time. Her heart felt equal parts light and heavy as they sat coiled together in an embrace under the sun’s dwindling rays, watching the light slip down past the dimming horizon.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	49. A Threshold Crossed

A/N for 2020-12-11: Many, many thanks again to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their substantial work on this chapter. I know you've been waiting for it all week, so enjoy!

Erin

* * *

Edward wasn't afraid of what Bella had asked of him, at least not the physical element of it. Watching the peace of her innocent sleep, though, he wished he could still be afraid. Extricating himself so he didn't wake her, he went to stand by the window. He didn't want to be near Bella when he thought of his too-real memories of what Demetri had done to her.

As he let his eyes rove over the night-dimmed horizon, he brought the ugly road map that Demetri's actions had left him to the forefront of his mind. He'd once been terrified of hurting Bella, should they attempt what she had proposed they do. Of course, he'd never thought it would happen while she was still human. He shook his head. _You said yes_ , he reminded himself. It wasn't a question of wanting to—God, he'd wanted to and loathed himself for it. How dare he desire something so selfish that would imperil her? He turned his head to look out the other window that framed the corner of the room. He could catch a glimpse of the lake there. Its patterns of ripples and unseen creatures were calming in their own way. He'd not explored its depths, and the mystery of what lurked beneath the silvery surface was a unique distraction.

The mental respite was temporary. Bella sighed in the bed, flopping over from her left side to her right, mumbling something about chicken.

He let himself smile a little. The veil on her thoughts had only lifted twice for him. He longed to know what lingered behind her facial features even though their expressions spoke eloquently to him—how well he knew them. Unlike his previous musings about the lake, it was not simply the unknown that called to him in Bella. There was no value in her thinking being a mystery. No, it was simply that he loved her and wanted to touch on each thing she thought worth touching on with her most idle thought.

He watched her hand twitch and her forehead wrinkle. His gut clenched, anticipating the beginning of a nightmare. "You're going to burn it." She frowned.

He exhaled, shaking his head again in amusement. He _had_ burned her dinner, but he'd considered it a trivial offering to whatever god dispensed the blessing of momentary lapses in time to lovers, for they'd been rather beautifully abstracted in the intimacy of a kiss at the edge of the kitchen. Well, she'd been lost in it. He'd just not cared that the food was burning.

Bella's breathing settled into the deep rhythms of much deeper sleep, and he reluctantly turned back to the window and the horizon.

He'd promised her they would try. It had been close to a lie, that promise. He was fairly confident that he could accomplish what she asked, but he'd needed the possibility of an escape in order to agree. He hadn't needed to read her thoughts to know she saw it as an iron-clad promise. But once the words were out there, once she had made her request, all he could think of was that conversation with Emmett in the woods the week before they'd left for New York.

" _You can't say no if she asks," Emmett had told him. "At least, you can't refuse her outright."_ And then he had gone on to assure Edward that the love he and Bella had for each other would be enough . . . as long as Edward could allow himself to believe it.

What he struggled with now was not the physical act but whether or not he could accomplish it without loathing himself. How could he perform the same actions as Demetri had—without reminding Bella or himself of the horror of that day?

He put his hands over his face, drawing them down as if he were trying to stretch out his inelastic skin, attempting to loosen the twisted knot of his thoughts. He would not be repeating what Demetri had done, he told himself. She was inviting this intimacy. He wanted this intimacy as much as he . . . didn't want it.

"Ach!" The frustrated sound was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Had he not wanted this for so long?

"I _have_ wanted this with her." He made himself say it out loud as if it would help him acknowledge it honestly. "I _have_ considered it."

He wanted to physically carve out a piece of his brain to remove what he remembered of the rape, and yet, ironically, he knew he could not accomplish what Bella asked without that ugly knowledge.

This was the last step for her towards making peace with an immortal life. Would it help him to remember that? To know that without this experience, she might die without this peace?

He contemplated this for some time.

No. It didn't help.

"Please, let _me_ make peace with this," he muttered. _With what she asked. With what I know I will have to do. With ending her human life. With making her like me._ The list was endless.

He did not expect a response. And because he was seemingly talking to gods that didn't exist, he added with a quiet and sarcastic snort, "What, one burnt chicken breast isn't enough of a sacrifice?"

The flight of doves was almost silent as they swept by the window. They were so thick in number as to nearly obscure the lake and sky. Grey and mottled, their shapes created a second twilight to the rising dawn.

He was not so sentimental or unworldly as to believe it meant anything supernatural, but he wanted to. It did mean that he could yet be surprised as he had been with Bella so many times before.

It meant that he might have hope. Maybe.

\- 0 -

Bella was still sleeping, an occupation which her body resorted to with more and more frequency. Her heart was very weak though it beat with what felt like an attempted faithfulness. Edward listened to it now as a musician would listen to the rhythm of a piece of music, finely attuned to any change in tempo. Since he'd met her, his life had been set to that beat, and he did not relish the silencing of the music he so treasured.

Edward had taken a rare break from being in Bella's room. He and Carlisle were standing a few feet away outside on one of the narrow decks that lined the house, both of them watching the whiz of bugs as they flew by. Larger and more sensitive creatures knew to keep their distance. His scent and Carlisle's kept a circular band around the property free of most other living things. Even so, in the distance he could hear the sound of brockets rutting, their grunts and squeals carrying in the still air.

Carlisle could hear them, too, and Edward listened to his attempts to match species to sound.

"Brockets," he said quietly.

 _Ah_ , Carlisle thought. He'd been close, considering the Andean deer.

They both stood in silence, letting the night sounds wash over them.

Carlisle's mind slipped from the sound of the animals to a brief flickering thought of Esme. The thought cut off abruptly, Carlisle's disciplined mind nimbly returning to cool observation of what he saw around him.

"It's all right. I know you miss her."

_I'm sorry, given what Bella's asked—_

"Do you lose control?" The words almost didn't feel like his own, blurted out as they were. "When you're together in that way—at the end?" It wasn't like he didn't understand the physical mechanics of what happened, but the experience—here his gift could not help him. He had unwillingly witnessed too many such encounters over 80-odd years of living with his talent, but nearly every one of them had led to minds gone incoherent at that crucial point.

Carlisle paused and considered the question. His mind recalled his most recent encounter. Edward listened intently, for it was this experience of the vampire mind that stymied him the most: the vision blurred, conscious thoughts blending into each other like paint sliding into water. Carlisle's recollection of the physical ecstasy made him smile a little as he thought of the ripples and spasms that had travelled through his body.

"To some degree, yes, but . . . there is an awareness in it."

A very, very small awareness, Edward knew. How would he hold onto that tiny kernel?

Carlisle understood Edward's concern. "It is anathema to hurt one's mate. I don't believe you are physically capable of it."

But Edward had hurt Bella plenty, judging by the memories he'd seen in Charlie's and others' minds in Forks. More to the point, he recalled his own memory of Bella's body, crumpled and bloody, lying on the floor where she'd landed after he had used his arm to accidentally sweep her into a glass table which had shattered on impact. He had been intent on protecting her then as well, but controlling supernatural strength in the face of intense emotion was a difficult proposition for any of them. Despite this, his mouth began filling with venom as he considered being so intimate with her. Even now, even after all this time, part of him lusted for her blood just as he lusted for what she wanted. It was so shameful to him, his failure to master even this.

The scent of Edward's venom reached Carlisle. He spoke very softly. "You face unique challenges with a human mate, Edward, and you're unnecessarily hard on yourself in this regard. Need I remind you that you once not only tasted but consumed blood from your singer's body and were able to stop yourself? Why would you believe you are not strong enough for this shared experience?"

Edward sighed. Unique challenges. That was one way of putting it. His "challenges" would be short-lived, at least, and he scowled at the glib idiom as it crossed his mind. Bella had asked that he spare himself the guilt of looking forward to her changed state. He was trying, but it was difficult.

Carlisle returned his mind to the topic about which Edward had initially inquired. It was the closest thing to oblivion that vampires could experience, and Carlisle believed the qualities he was trying to convey were particular to the interaction between mates.

"You think it's possible," he said, addressing Carlisle's thoughts.

 _Yes_. "Very much." Carlisle did not say aloud how happy it made him to think that Edward and Bella might know the joy he had with his own mate.

"Maybe," Edward whispered. His hope was far too eager to free itself from the grip of logic and worry, but he let it flutter and try its wings. His heart felt lighter in that moment than it had a right to feel , but he would need every ally—hope, too—if he wished to succeed.

\- 0 -

"Fishing?" Bella asked, eyebrows lifted incredulously.

"Well, it's not really the type of lake you'd want to swim in." She watched Edward eye the murky depths.

The water looked cold to her. Cold and dark. The kind of lake that hid slimy weeds and leeches. No, thank you.

"Yeah, no, fishing is definitely better than swimming. But wait, Charlie taught me that fish have a strong sense of smell—won't they all keep away?"

"Not if I stay back a bit." He jerked his chin in the direction of the treeline.

He'd disappeared from the house in the late afternoon, returning with a twinkle in his eye and the word "surprise" on his lips. She'd agreed to let him carry her—slowly—towards this promised surprise.

She frowned a little, forehead wrinkling. "Edward, why are you taking me fishing?"

His hand rested lightly on her hip, his body cooling hers in the afternoon heat. "Because your dad loves it, and I think, despite all your scoffing about it, you actually like it a little, too."

True. She turned her head back, smirking at him a little. He knew her so well. "Maybe."

"Maybe." He chuckled. "Do you need any help getting bait on your hook?"

"That depends." She squirmed a little internally. Hooking live worms had been Charlie's territory. She cast a quick glance towards the small box of supplies Edward had brought.

"It's not live."

"Ah. Then no, I'm good."

She pulled out one of the pieces of bacon he'd cut up into perfect little squares. Very neat. She didn't tell him that it was better if it was torn—more creature-like. Obviously, he'd gone to some trouble to arrange this, and she wasn't going to spoil any of it. Eyeing the lake, she surmised that there would probably be something like trout to catch. Her mouth watered a little, thinking of the trout she and Charlie used to cook over the campfire when she was little, then the smores they would make for dessert. She wouldn't put it past Edward to have graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars stashed somewhere in that massive kitchen. She smiled at the thought.

"Careful," she said, "I don't want to hook you by accident." She tipped the rod back.

Edward looked like he was trying not to grin. "I don't think we're in danger of that, but I can think of a few jokes that Emmett would make about your remark."

Bella laughed and had to put the rod down. "Okay. Nice. All right. Let's see if I can make my dad proud here."

As it was, she enjoyed several hours of gentle casting, but there were no bites beyond those of the weeds. It was a perfect and entirely normal way to spend the afternoon.

"Thank you," she said to Edward, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him before they were to begin their journey back to the house.

"You're welcome." She liked how he smiled even through his kiss. She liked how he seemed to be so much happier when she was relaxed.

Trailing her hand down his chest, she paused to absorb the moment. She found herself doing that a lot these days, collecting what she knew would be some of her last human memories. From what Edward had told her, she would need to be very purposeful in carrying them to her next life. She wanted these specific ones. If he knew how to avoid bringing others, beyond just hoping they would fade away with her change, he hadn't said so. That troubled her more than she wanted it to, and it troubled her now.

"What?" he asked. His hand rested on her back, nudging her a little.

"Nothing. Just spinning my mental wheels a little." She made herself smile.

Dinner involved nothing being burnt, and she enjoyed eating it, sitting across from him as they looked out the window over the sweep of the forest. Jacob had been nowhere in sight today. As she had surmised and Edward had confirmed, Jake had chosen to retreat fully from their lives, electing to stay either in his guest quarters or out and about on the property. Despite any bitterness he was feeling about Bella's illness and impending change, he was honoring his promise to keep them all hidden from the Volturi now that the deadline Edward had been given had come and gone. Soon enough it would be safe to let Alice see that Bella had become one of them, but until then, the plan was for her to have time to acclimate to her new self before they returned to the States. Bella's decision at least eased some of the guilt she felt, having pulled Jacob from his own life. It did not feel good to know that she'd been right about his being unhappy if he came with them, but the day was coming that he'd be free to return home to his family and the pack. That brought her considerable peace.

"Movie?" Edward asked.

"Is there something you really want to watch?" He was normally so considerate of what she wanted, it was hard to tell sometimes what _he_ would prefer.

"Not really."

"Reading?" Her current book wasn't holding much of her interest these days, but pretending to read it while sitting on the couch, curled up in Edward's arms—that appealed a great deal.

Edward was already there, arms open, waiting for her.

 _One Hundred Years of Solitude_ wasn't a large book, but it felt heavy in her hand. She was tired, but she was always tired these days. So when she found herself blinking at the words on a page and then blinking awake what she hoped was a short time later, the darkness of the night sky was a surprise.

"Oh." She lifted her head from where it had been resting on Edward's chest and rubbed her face with her hands. "It's not the company, I swear."

Edward chuckled. "I know, and I don't mind. I'm rather partial to when you fall asleep with me—especially when it's _on_ me."

"Well, enjoy it for now, then." It was a lighthearted comment, and most surprisingly, it felt lighthearted. She'd struggled so much in making peace with her choice to be turned that whenever there was the littlest bit of serenity associated with it, she found herself caught off-balance by the feeling.

She rearranged herself on the couch, putting her book down and turning to face him. As if it were choreographed, he slipped his arm around her to support her movements. There was a flare of something she didn't recognize in his eyes when she straddled his knees. Or maybe she did recognize it. Apprehension? No, there was no tension in him that she could sense. She studied his face and his suddenly darker eyes. Desire? Yes. Desire.

His hands felt so soothing as he reached up and cupped the top of her head with them, stroking down over her hair. She was warm from sleep, and they felt pleasantly cool. He repeated the gesture, moving to the back of her skull, cradling her neck and jaw and then resting his fingers briefly on her shoulders as she leaned forward and kissed him.

Oh, yes. She could do this for a very long time. She braced herself against his chest, feeling the heat move from her hands into his chest, liking that it was her body warming his. There were few things she could give him, but she could give him this: a tiny measure of the flame he lit in her.

Of course, she hadn't thought of it this way until recently. Not so long ago, it had felt like her life had been about to be sucked out of her by a man whose body had the same temperature as Edward's.

She let that thought disappear into the ether of her mind, anchoring herself to the present.

Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his.

Whenever they did kiss, Edward was very careful. She understood the lines he meant to keep between what was medical and what was intimate. However, the lines for her were becoming much, much fuzzier. He was simply Edward. He was hers. He was . . . they were meant to be together. His body drew her in and hers, his.

Her kiss had very much drawn him in now, and she sighed as another and then another kiss formed between them. Because they'd already crossed the threshold of possible intimacies with words, Bella's fingers were confident as she unbuttoned the top buttons of Edward's shirt. She'd only glimpsed him in Volterra as he stood partially unclothed in the square. Now, she had the pleasure and leisure of time with which to admire what she knew would be a body made perfect not only by his nature but by her sight.

She broke contact with his lips to bring her own to his chest. The hair there was very fine, and she took her time to appreciate its texture as she kissed one spot and then another.

Edward inhaled slowly, releasing the air in a long cooling breath as she undid the next button. His hands hadn't moved; they felt locked in place at her back.

"Is this okay?" she whispered. Trepidation was never too far away, it seemed. He'd said they could try—

"Very." The word sounded strained. It was followed by a small moan as her other hand settled on his ribs.

More than okay, it seemed. She smiled at him, taking in his closed eyes, the upturned corners of his mouth assuring her of his pleasure.

When she reached the fifth button, he moved his hands again, and she found their positions abruptly reversed. "My turn," he murmured, grinning at her a little wickedly before pressing a wet kiss onto her stomach, sending tremors rippling down her torso.

She slid backwards and sideways into the sofa cushions, Edward's hand coasting under the back of her shirt. The cold shock of his palm made her gasp. He kissed her neck, waking the flesh there with shivers.

When he picked her up, she didn't ask where he was taking her. Their bodies had brushed up against each other enough for her to know how she'd affected him. He'd certainly affected her in a similar manner. It was clear that he was saying yes again.

She barely felt the bed under her. She was too distracted by Edward. His shirt was gone. Hers was halfway up her torso, his nose rubbing back and forth at her stomach, not tickling but raising gooseflesh in the most delightful way.

"Too many clothes," Bella whispered.

"I agree," he mumbled.

Part of her had abstractly worried that when they reached this point of intimacy, there would be no surprises for Edward. He'd seen so much of her as he'd treated her, and he'd seen so much more she was sure when—she veered away from the memory. Her worries about Edward's response evaporated. The reverence with which he treated each inch of bared skin assured her that this was a wholly different experience from what they'd had before.

And while she'd wanted fewer of his clothes in the way of her own discoveries, her heart felt like it took flight when her own shirt disappeared. _Vulnerable. I feel vulnerable_ , she told herself. _This is normal._ This was her well-ingrained insecurity—and a frisson of fear, too.

But there was nothing but veneration in Edward's small moans and gentle touches, and she worked to let her inhibitions melt out through her fingers. He breathed over her collarbone before pressing a kiss into it, making her quiver. When Edward tugged the blanket up over her, Bella had a brief spasm of resentment towards her body and its inability to produce sufficient heat. She reminded herself that it would be different soon enough.

Edward made no further moves to remove any article of his or her clothing, and their kisses seemed to stretch into an indeterminate period of time, she relaxing into the simple intimacy of each others' half-revealed bodies. The desire for more, though, built steadily, that now-familiar tangling of nerves and want writhing between her hips.

When she began to push at the waistband of his jeans, it was with more nerves than she cared to admit. Edward took over her initial movement and finished it effortlessly, leaving him naked and her partially clothed. She couldn't see him, obscured as they both were by the blanket, but she could feel his legs against hers, how smooth his knees were, the coarse hair on his calves. There was a creeping and nervous blush in her face as she felt another part of him.

Her mind was making associations with all of these sensations, and as she'd been taught to do in therapy, she acknowledged each one and then set it aside, reminding herself, _this is now, this is Edward_. She could not stop her heart from pounding with anxiety or excitement, though, and Edward pulled back, his face indicating that he was studying hers.

"There is never a point of no return." He brushed his hand over her hair, slowing the movement to cup her cheek. "I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

"I love you too."

They didn't have to keep going, and they didn't have to stop either. They could do what they wanted. She told herself that a few times.

"I want to keep going right now."

"Okay." He kissed her lips gently.

It was harder not to feel the nerves when it was his hand sliding under the waistband of her jeans.

 _Everything feels so good_ , she reminded herself. _This is now, not then._

Even so, it was a quiet, "Wait, please," that left her lips.

Edward pulled his hand away, kissing her cheek gently and lying down beside her.

She had to fight to keep the "Sorry" from escaping her lips. She swallowed instead. _Now. Not then_. She turned to face him, reaching for and placing his hand back where it had been.

When the last of her clothing was gone, it was relief that jellied her bones. She hadn't realized just how nervous she'd been that he would be displeased by what he saw, but now she would know, one way or the other.

The blanket had slithered away with their movements, and they were entirely revealed to each other. He hovered half-over her, pausing, raking his intent gaze over her body, his brows pinched together in apparent concentration.

"What?" she asked nervously.

"I'm . . . rather overwhelmed. You're so, so beautiful. I—those are not the right words. I don't have those words."

She exhaled, laughing a little. "I feel the same way."

His eyes were even darker now. She could feel tension almost rippling off him, and she thought again about how anxious he had been about hurting her—how nervous he must be now. Beginning at his chest, she traced the shape of an eight with her fourth finger, switching to her third and then her pointer finger, travelling slowly down in this figure until she reached his waist. When her fingers spread out to brush the fine hair beneath his stomach that created a trail further south, he rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head and his eyes tightly closed. She paused, giving him a moment to acclimate himself.

"That feels amazing, but I can't touch you. I'm—"

"I understand." She didn't want him to invest further in the idea of what he couldn't do. "I trust you."

Without opening his eyes, one of his hands left his head and took her free hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing and then releasing it.

She continued the movement of her other hand, marvelling again at the impossible texture of his body. Everything was silk and velvet. Silk and velvet over stone.

His moan was louder now, but he held himself completely still under her exploring touch. Fingers curling around him as she reached her destination, she began moving her hand slowly up and down, watching his face transform, and his body arch slightly. Although her actions were new to her, his responses indicated she was doing something right. She moved her hand faster, using her other one to tease again at the trail of hair. The outcome of this action was most unexpected: Edward's body jerked, the part in her hand spasming.

He gasped, and she watched his orgasm ripple over him in a series of long, undulating waves, his body trembling with pleasure for some time. When the last of the tremors had ended, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. Then he quickly swiped his discarded shirt over himself before he turned onto his side, cradling her face with his hands and kissing her.

Not human, she reminded herself, as she felt his continued arousal. He didn't need sleep or air or, apparently, rest of any kind.

Her gut clenched with nerves. She wanted this. She wanted him, she reminded herself, but her own body trembled with apprehension.

How badly she wanted to lose herself in how his hands now smoothed over her sides and back, but the small voice in her head tethered her to the past: _It'll hurt._

There was no logic to this. She knew because she'd forced herself to think about and research this very question. There was no natural reason for anything to be painful. Edward had never hurt her.

_Maybe he'd just been lucky?_

Her heart stuttered away as she considered all of these questions afresh.

"Bella?"

"Mm." She was too abstracted for words.

"I want to try something."

The statement didn't even really register, the "Okay" slipping from between her lips before her brain had considered it.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

He kissed her once more before moving his lips to her jaw, her neck, and then to her chest, pressing kisses at several spots along the way. She felt his cool breath and his mouth on her breasts, first one and then the other, but even before she finished registering how good it felt, he had continued his explorations, stroking her skin and kissing his way down her stomach.

Then she felt his tongue where she'd never imagined feeling it, and all logical thought fled. If his tongue on her skin had been scintillating pleasure before, now it was a burst of exhilarating sensation. Every nerve ending in her body came alive, all of them joining together in an ascending chorus, culminating in an explosion of ecstasy. When she returned to herself, she was panting—feeling as if she was struggling to get enough air. Edward was again nuzzling at her neck, his arms holding her.

"Oh my God." She couldn't think of anything else to say.

Edward chuckled. "So you've said."

Had she? She tried to laugh, too, but it was difficult as she couldn't seem to draw a full breath. She became aware that Edward had laid two fingers gently against the side of her throat for a moment before he rested his head lightly on her chest and began stroking her hair. Ah, she was being _monitored_. She thought of saying something, gently teasing him about it, but stopped herself. He was clearly making an effort to let her have this experience without the specter of her ill health hanging over them, and she wanted to be just as gracious.

After her breathing returned to its normal rate, Edward lifted his head to ask, "Do you need more rest?"

He wanted to stop? She jerked her head to face him fully. "Do you not want to—?"

"I assure you, my desire is not the limiting factor. Your body, however . . . "

"No, I don't want to stop." She didn't. She was, however, still very, very nervous.

He lifted her so that she straddled him as he sat cross-legged on the bed. "Then I want you to be in control of this," he murmured.

This frightened her even more, and it surprised her to realize it. She'd envisioned his taking the lead, and her thoughts scrambled as their bodies pressed together, a tiny flicker of panic making her breathing come faster.

"You're in complete control," Edward whispered, kissing just beneath her ear. "I'll follow your lead."

It was not what she needed to hear, and she froze momentarily. "I can't . . ."

 _What couldn't she do?_ she asked herself.

Edward pulled the blanket up and around her but otherwise remained still, cupping a hand to her cheek.

Demetri had been completely in control and not only when his violence had pushed past the physical boundaries she'd tried to keep. Edward had exerted his own control, too, before but not physically. Now they'd found their way together, and she didn't want to slide back into a lopsided arrangement even if it put her in charge. "I want . . . I don't want to be in control. I want this to be us." She frowned, knowing the words didn't approach what she was trying to convey.

But Edward seemed to grasp her meaning. "I understand." He slipped his hand from her cheek and wove it into her hair, cupping the back of her head. They fell gently back onto the bed, both his hands and hers mirroring each other in their movements.

This. This felt right. This was them.

Still, her body trembled with anticipation even as she let her legs fall open and felt him settle into the V that formed there, and again when she angled her hips to invite the intimacy she wanted. As their bodies merged, she tensed more and more, so that when he finally pushed inside of her, she squeezed her eyes shut in fear.

"It's just me." Edward exhaled, running his nose from her jaw to her hairline. "Breathe for me, Bella."

She did, and he moved further inside her, pausing as she took another breath. She felt his hesitation, and seeing the question in his expression, she quickly shook her head. "I'm okay," she whispered, curling one hand around the back of his neck to keep him from pulling away. "Don't stop."

She had to make herself inventory her body, taking in every sensation, forcing herself to see that nothing hurt, that if anything, it felt good.

The realization was like melting, the tension leaving her body with her small moan, this met by a matching sound from Edward as she arched her back to bring them even closer together. The entwining of their bodies felt only more natural as they continued to move in tandem, their secret rhythm timed with the now steady beat of her heart.

Initially, she strained to recapture the sensation that he had pulled from her before, but she knew it was physically beyond her, and so she let herself simply be, encouraging Edward to continue when he tried to wait for her, watching him instead as he chased and then found his own release.

Afterward, she wanted to linger in the sense of quietude and wonder that surrounded her, but she found herself blinking and then blinking again, drifting off to sleep in Edward's arms as he whispered words of adoration into her ear.

\- 0 -

Edward had often told Bella that it was easy to watch her sleep—fascinating even. It was not her sleep that fascinated him now but rather the very recent memory of how they had _been_ together. He had thought all his transformations were done, his frozen body making its final shift when he met her. Yet, here he found himself changed again, wondering if further transformation awaited him upon Bella's own transition to a new and immortal life.

He had been so slow to understand in the beginning that he loved her, but once he had, it had consumed every part of him. And now, his whole body hummed with an unfamiliar energy as if new nerves had grown in place of old ones. The physical change was startling, but the mental one even more so. He'd feared what she'd asked—more than feared, had been terrified that he could harm her. But that wasn't all—he'd been disgusted with himself too. He had wondered how he dared desire her when his body could brutally destroy hers. Now he considered how he'd so easily resisted those desires and how much he wished he'd given in to them so much sooner. Carlisle had been right, as always. Edward could no sooner have harmed Bella, his mate, than he could have torn off his own limbs.

As he drew his gaze over her sleeping form, he felt such love—such peace—not because this self-imposed obstacle was overcome but because their being together had been so right. So very right.

He stood at the threshold of this new existence, anticipating the changed life that Bella would soon have, knowing it would not be without its difficulties but certain now that they could conquer them together.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	50. Just like that

A/N for 2020-12-18: Today marks the last teaching day for 2020, and I can't say I was sorry to see the end of it. I'm hoping you're all keeping well and healthy.

As always, my deep thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their work on this story. They inform me and keep me in chuckles with their whip-smart commentary.

Happy reading, and happy holidays, folks.

\- Erin

* * *

Bella felt a little bit like she was in heaven, not the literal I-think-I-might-be-dead heaven, but the sort of blissful sleepy happiness that she had once imagined would follow the sorts of activities in which she and Edward had engaged. The light in the room was very low, the glow from the bedside lamps muted and soft. Everything felt golden in their light—or perhaps it was the way she was looking at things.

A soft hum escaped with her next exhale and the cool arm that was wrapped around her began to slip away.

“No!” she said, grabbing Edward’s wrist. She didn’t want the slightest thing to change in this blissful scenario.

“You’re cold,” Edward said softly, continuing to lift his arm, then pulling the blanket back up over her, resettling himself back where he’d been. 

She  _ was _ cold, she realized, and she was mildly bothered that this fact, and Edward’s attention to it, were distracting her from all her other rather pleasant and mushy feelings. But the cold continued to creep up from her hands and arms towards her chest, the sensation turning into a more sinister tingling along the way.

“Mmm,” she said, squirming a little and rolling over to face Edward.

By the time his face came into view, she wished she’d stayed put. His forehead was wrinkled with worry, and as he moved to kiss her, she felt the tell-tale wedge of his tongue at her lips. 

_ Not just a kiss, then, _ she thought. 

Despite their intimacy, the need for this still-medical treatment unnerved her. It was like Demetri’s shadow hung over her, no matter how many days and weeks were between then and now.

_ Not for long, though, _ she assured herself,  _ not for long.  _

Edward’s venom acted quickly, especially since he no longer had to limit the time his mouth was on hers, and it soothed for now the squiggling tremors in her body. Her fingertips and toes remained stubbornly tingly, like she’d just come in from a walk on a frosty evening. She wiggled these extremities, but the sensation remained.

“What?” Edward asked.

She shook her head, feeling woozy at the movement. God, she was so tired all the time, so weak—

“Bella, please tell me what you’re feeling.” His tone seemed urgent.

“Just some numbness in my fingers and toes,” she mumbled. 

The wrinkles returned to his forehead briefly and then disappeared, like he was realizing something . . . accepting something?

_ Oh. _ Her fuzzy brain finally grasped the realization too. “It’s . . . time, isn’t it?”

“Very soon, yes.” His eyes studied hers, and he moved his hand slowly over the back of her head, smoothing down her hair.

She wanted to reciprocate, but even the thought of lifting her hand was suddenly exhausting. Sleep was tugging at her.

“Rest now,” Edward whispered.

She didn’t want to sleep though she could feel her body needed it. She had just woken up, after all. Perhaps something could smooth the way. She reached out and laid her hand on his arm as she looked up at him. “In a bit, but maybe you can help me get back to sleep?”

He nodded quickly but then frowned a little, his eyes widening. “Bella, with your current symptoms, I don’t think—”

She laughed, a low throaty sort of chuckle. “Not that, no. I was wondering if you would play for me.”

“The piano?”

Her smile widened. “Well, given that apparently I’m not up for you playing  _ me _ , yes.”

He made a good show of rolling his eyes.

With her smile still on her lips, she continued. “It always helps me when you play. Even in Volterra—when I thought I was hearing things—it helped. And the other day too.” 

She knew he would be reluctant to leave her side even for this short distance, and she was reluctant to have him be away either, but hearing his music was something she would have even in sleep. Her one unsleeping sense would know his presence, and that would be enough to let her leave consciousness behind again. 

When sleep finally came, it was in fitful spurts, wakefulness giving her brief glimpses of the altered darkness as the moon’s travelling light made small changes to the room’s landscape. These brief, conscious moments were filled with the sweet sounds of her lullaby, the familiar notes soothing and soft. The musical fragments drew contented sighs, little precursors to more sleep. 

It was the pre-dawn chorus that woke her next, and she blinked her way into wakefulness, realizing that she was likely waking from sleep for what would be the last time for her. Somehow, the thought wasn’t as frightening as it had been before. Her body was not rested, but she knew it would soon no longer need that either . . . or food or drink or air or . . . so many other things.

Edward appeared in the doorway, a dim shape in a dim room. 

As it always did, her heart sped at the sight of him.

She watched his body stiffen.

“Take a breath, please,” he said.

She did, and his shoulders softened slightly. 

How she loved this man, and how she was ready not to be fearful that their time would be snatched from them courtesy of her bodily frailty. How long she had felt puny beside his immortal perfection, and now so much of that would be allayed. How long she had felt weak and a burden. No more. She would be like him.

Eventually, she reminded herself. There would be years before she mastered any kind of control. It was for a different reason that her heart beat faster again. Would she be herself as an immortal? Would she remember all that she wished to? And none of what she didn’t?

_ If you don’t hurry up and do this, you won’t have to worry about anything soon enough, _ she reminded herself.

She swallowed before she spoke, a little startled by the hoarseness in her voice. “I’m ready.”

Edward smiled weakly at her, abruptly dropping his gaze to the floor as he held on to the doorframe. He chuckled a little and shook his head, still looking down. “Just like that.”

She chuckled too. “Yeah, just like that.”

When he became aware that she was struggling to sit up, he walked into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed to assist her. “And here I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast outside.”

Breakfast. Right. “Um . . . I have a feeling I might regret having breakfast later on, all things considered.”

There was some hesitation in Edward. She could see it in the way he was trying to appear relaxed, but she knew him so well now that such things didn’t escape even her human eyes.

“You’re having second thoughts.” She grimaced as soon as she spoke. How instinctive it was to question him—to have a moment’s distrust even now. But she knew even before he replied what his answer would be.

“No,” he said quickly, “not second thoughts. Just . . . making peace with my first ones.” His smile was rueful as he took her hand in his, kissing it. “I want this. No matter how selfish that makes me or how much guilt I may feel for this outcome, I want you to be mine for all time. Still though, to lose your humanity—it is a loss for me.” He brushed his finger up her cheek, and she felt the blood follow the movement. His smile grew wide. “I will miss that.”

“I, on the other hand, will be super glad that not everyone will be able to read my feelings like an open book.” She smiled at him. She knew it was a tentative smile—the nervousness engulfing her now didn’t allow for more— but she wanted to make this easier for him. She wanted to erase that wrinkle between his eyes and to be the comfort for him that he had been for her—to be his mate, to be his equal.

When he leaned forward, she lifted her head slightly to meet him partway. His kiss dizzied her afresh. With her hands in his hair, she held him close. “Now, please, Edward.” She wasn’t sure she had the strength or nerve to keep asking, recalling the pain that she’d felt from James’ bite, knowing it would be infinitely worse when the venom was allowed to spread throughout her whole body.

He pulled back, gazing into her eyes, sadness creeping into the features of his face. 

Another movement at the door caught Bella’s attention. Carlisle entered silently, smiling gently at them both and depositing a long and narrow black case on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” Edward said.

Bella didn’t ask what was in the case. She was quite sure she didn’t want to know.

“I’ll be nearby if you need me,” Carlisle said. 

“Okay,” Bella said, realizing belatedly that he probably wasn’t talking to her. 

Carlisle placed a hand on Edward’s shoulder and squeezed it. For once she didn’t begrudge them their silent conversation as Edward momentarily looked up at his father, nodding at him and murmuring something not meant for her ears. Then Carlisle was gone.

Edward was playing with the fingers on her hand, smoothing his own over her much softer and warmer ones. It was gentle and soothing, and she relaxed under the rhythmic touch. He moved up to her wrist and her arm, and the mild tingling in her fingertips faded a bit with his massage.

“Lie back a little,” he said, continuing to work her muscles until she felt like she would nearly fall asleep again. He had produced a tube of some sort of cream which he applied to her neck and chest,  and she allowed herself to melt into his every touch, trying to absorb each pleasant sensation, knowing what unpleasant ones were to come.

When he brought his lips to hers, it was with a whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always.” She murmured it so quietly that she could barely hear herself, but she knew he had. 

Edward nodded, his face drawn and his eyes full of things there was no more time left to say. He dipped his head and kissed her lips again, then her cheek as he worked his way to the side of her jaw. When she turned her head away, knowing what was coming next, she felt his cool breath on her throat and heard him whisper, “Forever.” 

She didn’t even realize his teeth were in her skin until she felt the pressure there. The cream must’ve been an analgesic, and she loved that he had tried it, but she knew it was only a temporary respite. She heard him make a sound halfway between a sob and a groan as he wrenched himself away from her, and she tensed, waiting for the burning to begin.

It didn’t. Instead, warmth travelled down her neck and through her chest, migrating outward and down beneath her skin, flowing quickly, moving with what she knew would be increasing heat. She clenched her fists and jaw in anticipation. 

The warmth continued to permeate, occasional spikes of pleasant feelings making her insides feel like they were bubbling. The sensations accumulated in little pockets, some in very sensitive pockets. 

“Oh,” she said, closing her eyes. It was very quickly becoming difficult to be cognizant of more than what was happening within her body, the sensations overwhelming her mind’s ability to process them. She was so fully engulfed in them, she barely registered the clink of something metallic nearby and the sound of Edward’s voice. He might have been asking her something, but she could not make it out and could not have responded if she had; nor could her mind make sense of the sudden pinch in her chest and the sense of fullness that briefly simmered there. Then, a new deluge of heat exploded into a rush of ecstasy, and she felt every particle of it as her body welcomed the injected venom that flowed through her veins.

\- 0 -

“Remarkable.” Carlisle’s voice was almost a reverent whisper. Edward knew this particular tone was normally reserved for the latest medical advancements and Carlisle’s awe at what human technology could accomplish. Now, though, his father marvelled at Bella’s seemingly unconscious form, which only twitched occasionally with sounds of contentment or . . . sounds which Edward associated with things he rather wished were private. “She doesn’t appear to be in any pain.”

Edward nodded. He could barely believe it himself. He’d waited for the burning to begin so that it would distract her from the additional pain of the intracardiac injection of his venom, but there had been no screaming, no begging, no writhing, only soft moans and gasps. After calling her name repeatedly with no response, he’d injected her as quickly as he could, and if she’d felt any discomfort, there had been no sign of it.

Hours later, she still looked so peaceful. While it should have been comforting, he found himself terrified instead. What if the addiction interfered with the change? What if these were her final death throes?

“Look,” Carlisle said softly. He put his hand on Edward’s shoulder, redirecting his attention.

Yes, his father knew his fear. Edward followed Carlisle’s thoughts and then his pointed finger to look at Bella’s neck. The first changes were inside, invisible even to vampiric eyes, but the skin where Edward had bitten her was . . . different. Edward stepped forward, kneeling and forcing himself to look more clinically. 

“She’s changing, Edward.” Carlisle was trying to keep the excitement from his voice but failing. He was thinking what this could mean if they ever decided that there was a need to change someone again. The thought of a painless transformation was enthralling. Already his father was trying to calculate how quickly one could foster venom addiction and if it could be done expeditiously in such a situation.

“Carlisle.” Edward’s shoulders were stiff with anger, and his tone reflected the same. He recalled the horror of watching Demetri do what he had done over the past few months. No one should ever again suffer what Bella had. The creature had poisoned her and had forced Edward to continue to do so long after. What if this didn’t work? What if the exposure to the venom ultimately and negatively altered her change? What if the addiction continued and could not be fed? Would it weaken her? “How did I not even consider this possibility?”

“Consider what?” Carlisle asked.

“The addiction . . . what if it interferes with her change?”

Carlisle sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry for being so insensitive.” His clinical suppositions stopped immediately, and Edward watched his father focus on Bella again. Carlisle’s thinking was now full of gratitude and relief for the painless transformation he was convinced he was witnessing. “Her heart is steady though, and we’re already seeing the first signs of change.”

Edward brushed his hand over Bella’s forehead and hair before laying his hand on her cheek. She sighed and turned her face instinctively into his touch. There was still no sign of distress. As his fingers lingered over the mark his teeth had left, he felt for himself the now much harder flesh there. Yes, that had changed. He hoped it was a sign that the rest of her would as well, but he was too versed in fate’s vicissitudes to so easily believe that all would be well.

_ Anything,  _ he prayed silently to whatever higher power might still be listening.  _ I will do anything. Whatever you want from me, I will give you . . . for her. Please let her be as she should be. Please. _

He continued to kneel beside her long after Carlisle left the room, his silent supplications repeating even as he watched her skin turn diamond-like in the midday sun. There was nothing to do but wait and hope, and his inability to do more weighed upon him like the horrendous fates he imagined coming.

_ Please _ . . .  _ please . . . _

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended. 


	51. The gift of memory

A/N for 2020-12-25: Happy Christmas, folks! I hope you enjoy this chapter, which seems most appropriately titled for today. As well, if you're so inclined, please leave some kind words for the betas for this story: Chayasara and Eeyorefan12, who were working on this until yesterday.

\- Erin

* * *

The surface of the lake was very, very still as it was at the beginning and end of most days. Such demarcations in time were notable for Bella now, for there were no more bouts of sleep to mark one cycle of light and dark from another. Watching the surface shiver in the cooling air, she saw that the light had already faded subtly. Night was descending.

Very soft and distant sounds alerted her to Edward’s imminent arrival. He’d stayed near her while she’d hunted, but she could tell he wanted to venture a little further away for something he’d scented earlier. With a little encouragement from her, he’d gone, a slightly guilty twitch to his lips as he had smiled at her. 

Bella kept her eyes on the water. She liked testing her senses. They were so much sharper, she hadn’t found the edges of their capacity yet. Her hearing or sense of smell was more likely to announce his arrival than her sight——or that other sense she had with Edward. It was like a tingling that rippled over her when he approached.

He was still some distance away, and though she kept her eyes on the water, she was thinking of its murky depths and how similar they were to the memories she carried of her human life.

Both Edward and Carlisle had encouraged her to fish out the most precious human memories first, walking her backwards through her near-two decades of life so that the dull recollections were etched into her permanent memory.

At the moment, she was thinking of cooking and of the steps required to prepare her grandmother’s lasagna. She smiled. She’d enjoyed assembling the many layers and flavours. Then she thought of the tiramisu she’d once made with her grandmother, but there was something unpleasant about the memory—no, the association. Ah, yes, the chocolate. Something about the chocolate. She veered away from the recollection. Edward had also warned her to avoid thinking of any memory that she didn’t want to permanently keep. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a general recollection of her life before. She hadn’t woken up with some sort of vampiric amnesia. No, rather she’d woken understanding that a great weight on her mind was entirely gone, and she didn’t want to accidentally bring it back by recalling the wrong thing.

She smiled again. A pleasant prickle of tingles shivered over her body.

“South-southwest, twenty yards or so,” she announced to Edward, turning to face him. She was right.

“Very nice.” He grinned at her.

Closing the distance in a second, Bella reached out and gently pulled Edward towards her by tugging at the front of his shirt. She smiled back at him for two reasons: one, he was here, and two, she hadn’t ripped his shirt this time. 

“How was lunch?” she asked, drumming a beat on his chest with her fingertips.

“Aggressive.”

She laughed. “Emmett-would-be-envious aggressive?”

“Maybe. But he isn’t usually a fan of big cats.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek and then her jaw and then her neck. “He doesn’t appreciate the scoldings he gets from Rose and Alice for destroying yet another shirt. So, what did you do while I was gone?”

She had to repeat his words in her head. What he was doing was very, very distracting. Very likely, his actions were deliberate. Her already fractured newborn attention needed only the slightest provocation to scatter. Edward had taught her to practice gathering it back together whenever she noticed it was gone. He was also her greatest tester on this front. “Remembering stuff.”

“Oh?” 

It was sinful, the way his lips felt. Good Lord—

”What were you remembering?”

“Cooking.” The word escaped in two breathy syllables.

He ran his nose over her clavicle, breathing out so that her torso shivered. “Cooking what?”

She made herself take a breath. Damn it. She would not sound like a half-baked idiot if she could help it. “Making Grandma’s lasagna and her tiramisu.” Her full focus returned in all its sharpness. “Edward, is there a reason why I wouldn’t like thinking about chocolate?”

He paused only for a moment but just enough for it to be more than noticeable for a vampire. “I think you enjoyed eating chocolate very much before.” He continued his physical attention, spreading his fingers out from their seat at her waist and then retracting them in a most delicious motion.

“That’s not what I asked.” She _was_ getting better at staying focused.

“Hmm.” His hands slipped lower.

_Ohhhh._

She yanked herself back, squinting at him slightly. After realizing the futility of the gesture, she relaxed her face. “Why are you avoiding the question?”

Now that she had eyes capable of appreciating the many microscopic expressions of his face, she saw that there was the slightest twitch in his cheek. 

He brought his hand up and brushed her hair off her shoulder, smoothing it down from the crown of her head. “Do you really want the answer and the memory that will come with it? Or would you prefer that I answer when the memory is surely faded?” He was serious. The sudden smoothness in his features told her so.

As a newborn, trust didn’t come easily to her, but if anyone had her trust now, it was Edward. “Sorry,” she said softly.

He shook his head, cupping her cheek. “Don’t be. I’m glad you’re working hard to remember. I wish—I wish I’d done more of it myself when Carlisle encouraged me to. But the choice is yours. I just want to make sure I help you find the memories you want to keep most. I won’t keep anything from you, but I want it to be a choice.”

She understood, and she thought of Rosalie again. Edward had told Bella the most cursory rendition of his sister’s story, assuring her that Rose had already told her.

“Right,” Bella said, nodding. She wrapped her arms carefully around Edward, and he mirrored the gesture.

After a few moments, Edward spoke again, leaning back to look at her. “It’s almost dinnertime.” 

“What’s Carlisle making tonight?”

“A very large steak, baked potatoes, and Caesar salad.” He rolled his eyes. “Apparently, Carlisle has taught himself to make croutons.” 

“Jake’ll like that.” She smiled. Jacob seemed to possess an almost infinite appetite, and Edward and then Carlisle had always made sure there was good food available for him. Her smile broadened as she recalled how wide-eyed Jacob had initially been at the stocking of the fridge in their Argentinian home. He’d never been hungry at home in Washington; she knew that, but she also knew that the no-expense-spared attitude taken by the Cullens with anything—groceries included—had been rather shocking for him, not to mention that the quality of Argentinian beef was known the world over, or so she’d been assured.

Bella appreciated the Cullen men’s efforts to establish a regular dinner hour for Jacob, creating a routine time for gathering and conversation for all of them. She knew it was probably for her benefit as well, a way of helping her keep to human tradition and behavior as much as possible.

As she and Edward made the short trip back to the house, Bella mulled over the last few weeks and Jacob’s increased sense of ease. She hadn’t blamed him for his apprehension when he’d first encountered her vampire self just as she knew he didn’t blame her for fiercely growling at him—though he’d not been as forgiving about Edward’s laughter at the time. Jacob’s concern had dissipated quickly, sped along by the fact that Bella felt so much herself in this new form. The last months of her life had been so weighed down with illness and grief, but things were good right now, she reminded herself. No need to go digging in the murky depths of what obviously hadn’t been.

Jacob was already at the table, his mouth full of food. “Forry,” he mumbled, circling his fork in the air over his plate. “Fis was just too good to wait on.”

If memory served, the meal looked as she recalled it was meant to, a substantial piece of meat sitting adjacent to a well-stuffed potato, this neighbouring a second dinner plate piled high with salad, a dusting of shredded parmesan, a small hill of crumbled bacon, and a scattering of perfectly browned croutons.

“How was your . . . afternoon?” Jacob asked. Despite his attempt to appear congenial, Bella couldn’t help but notice a wrinkle between his eyebrows. He didn’t like thinking about her hunting; that much was apparent. She hadn’t said anything but privately found it a little hypocritical since he would and probably had done the same thing in his wolf form. 

“Good.” She didn’t want to dwell on a subject that made him uncomfortable. “How’re the correspondence courses coming?”

This earned her a frown. “Fine.”

“Fine, as in you haven’t done anything else yet?” She arched her eyebrows at him. He’d agreed to continue his studies, and she’d promised to help him before and now. He’d been resistant to taking help from either Edward or Carlisle.

“I got some stuff done,” he said defensively.

“Mmm.” She didn’t want to push too hard on this right now, given that he was enjoying his meal. Folding her hands together, she rested her chin on them and glanced at his plate, which he seemed very focused on. 

Though the food did look perfectly prepared, the smell was truly revolting. She tried to recall the last time she’d eaten such a meal. The image of the food on the plate came first, set on a checkered tablecloth. Next, her inner sight travelled over the wine glass adjacent to it and then to the pale hands across the table from her. There was no moment to dart away from the memory before she grasped the significance of the creature that she had sat across from. Suddenly, there was another, much more powerful memory, and she was across the room from the table, crouched and hissing as Edward stepped towards her, keeping his hands out and open in a non-threatening gesture.

“Think about where you are right now, Bella. Think about how you know you’re safe here.” Edward kept his voice low and melodic in an attempt to soothe her. “Focus on my voice. Focus on what you see.”

She obeyed his instructions, or she tried to. Other memories were stabbing at her consciousness. Chocolate wrapped in shiny red wrappers, sticky little hands grasping them—

“Oh!” Her hand went to her now flaming throat, her face feeling like it was also burning but with shame. “Oh,” she said again. She recognized the contortions of her facial features and the tightening in her throat. Her body was trying to weep, but it couldn’t. She bolted for the outside.

The sound of quickly falling feet and paws trailed both behind her and off to the side. Of course, they were following to make sure she was safe and that they were still hidden from the Volturi. Making herself stop, she crouched down, burying her head in her hands. She made herself think of the meadow she recalled from her early days with Edward, of fishing with Charlie, of walking on the beach with Jacob, of eating ice cream and drinking coffee in the sun, but the image of the man—of Demetri hovering over her returned like a strobe light between these other memories. And as she put her hands into the dirt and fisted handfuls of it, she let the memory come, growling and snarling in response.

“Bella?” Edward asked, approaching her slowly from the surrounding trees.

The memory was relentless, a fully formed assault on her senses, but it wasn’t pain that came with it—it was a ferocious and vibrant rage. And when she spoke, it was with that rage flaming in her voice: “I’m going to fucking kill the bastard!”

\- 0 -

When they returned to the house, Edward, Jacob, and Carlisle kept a respectful distance as Bella paced and snarled for a time. It was only when her initial fury had somewhat abated that she sensed there was someone else in the room with an added awareness of her emotional state. Although she knew Edward couldn't hear her thoughts, Bella still worked to temper them with the skills she'd been taught. There was no point in further distressing herself or him, and she knew her current state did distress him. What she wasn’t sure of was whether it was Edward’s perfect recall of the events in Volterra, her own torment, or his rabid desire to avenge her that tortured him the most. His anguish practically throbbed in her chest. Was this the mate bond, then?

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, ending her pacing.

“Don’t be.” Edward appeared in front of her, still several paces out of reach.

“I’m not sorry for what I’ve recalled. I’m sorry for what you’re feeling because of it.”

Edward shook his head. The wrinkle between his eyebrows remained. Then he glanced over at his father. Although Carlisle’s expression was stoic, Bella saw a telltale flicker in his eyes she’d come to recognize. He was silently communicating with his son. 

Edward nodded and looked at Bella. “Let’s . . . go back outside.” He held out his hand for her, and when she didn’t take it right away, he began to retract it, a flicker of remorse traversing his features.

She snatched at his hand, inadvertently yanking him towards her. Jesus! She really needed to watch her strength. “Outside would be good.” It wasn’t the outside that she needed. It was the pretense of privacy and the freedom to be the creature she now was.

Edward seemed to understand this perfectly.

After they had decimated a small herd of peccaries and then allowed themselves to fall into the frenzied lovemaking that the bloodlust and their heightened emotions had spurred, they turned back to the shreds of clothing remaining to them.

Bella actually giggled. This was a first for Edward, as far as she knew. Thus far, she’d been the only one who had torn any clothing—usually his.

“That was most . . . uncouth of me,” he said, sounding regretful.

“Uncouth, you say?”

She swore he would be blushing if he could, but then his expression morphed into something much more serious.

"I had hoped you would never remember, Bella"—he plucked the greater part of his shirt from the forest floor, draping it over her—“at least not this soon or this clearly.” 

She considered his words for a moment, allowing herself to enjoy the tender touch of his fingers smoothing the fabric over her arms. "I may not have forgotten what he did, and I don't want to make it sound like there was any kind of silver lining to remembering, but if I didn't remember, then I wouldn't know how good you’ve been to me. Knowing what . . . _he_ . . .” She still struggled with his name and shook her head slightly. “Or any one of our kind is capable of only makes me grateful that you were never like that."

Edward looked away, ostensibly to look for more salvageable clothing. Bella knew better that it was most likely out of remorse. "I have it on good authority that I was overprotective and controlling."

She wasn’t the only one who needed to make peace with the past. Sugarcoating it wouldn’t be helpful, but if she was being honest, the emotion that should have been attached to some of those dim memories just wasn’t there anymore. She also hadn’t forgotten Edward’s propensity for self-reproach. "Maybe? Although I should point out that I don't remember those things very well anymore, so you probably shouldn't remind me." She smiled at him, happy to see he had lifted his gaze to meet hers. "But seriously, any overprotective tendencies aside, as I remember it, you’ve always been gentle and patient and loving to me, willing to deny yourself if it would put me in danger, and that is how I will think of what being together like this is. It's only what you have shown me. There's the physical act, and then there is what we do. There is making love." 

Edward smiled wryly and waved a hand around himself to indicate the crushed foliage and the remains of their clothing, most of it shredded beyond recognition in their frantic haste to be together. “Even like this?”

She couldn’t help her own coy smile as she took a step toward him, gratified to see his eyes darken as she shrugged his ruined shirt off of her shoulders and let it fall. “Especially like this.” 

\- 0 -

They did not return to the house until early the next morning, sans clothing, sated, and certainly calmer than when they had left. When Jake and Carlisle were nowhere to be found, Edward listened for a time to his father's distant thoughts to confirm what he had already suspected. Jake had never been made fully aware of the events that had transpired in Volterra, and Carlisle had taken it upon himself to gently fill in just enough to explain Bella's reaction. Now that the facts had been laid out, Jake also needed time to privately work through those revelations and his own reactions to them. Edward was grateful to his father for this; all of his own focus was necessarily on Bella. She needed his support and guidance now more than ever. He would need to draw on every scrap of knowledge and experience he had gained from his eighty-plus years of existence as a vampire and a mind reader in addition to his personal awareness of how the aftermath of such an experience could affect a young woman so new to this life. As well, he would need to reassert control over the monster that had been reawakened in himself, who wanted nothing more than the total annihilation of anyone who dared bring harm to his mate. Edward had never been more grateful for the role model his sire had been for him since his rebirth, as it was Carlisle's strength and self-control Edward hoped to emulate now. 

\- 0 -

Despite having had weeks to acclimate to the reversed seasons of the southern hemisphere, Bella still startled at the signs of spring flowering around her in early November. Jacarandas left magic purple trails for her and Edward to follow into the secrecy of the woods. Swaths of red tulips enveloped the house’s white concrete foundation while fuschias trailed elegantly from planters over the glass and steel railings. She was glad for her new eyes and their ability to etch it all so precisely into her memory.

There were other good experiences living there now, too, ones that eclipsed with their frequency and vividness the old and ugly recollections. She and Edward had gained some privacy with Carlisle’s departure for home. When Jacob slept, they were essentially alone. Bella gave silent thanks for Jacob’s deep and long periods of sleep. Guilt assailed her next as she recalled who she was sitting next to and what she was supposed to be doing at this moment instead of ruminating. She yanked her gaze back from the outside and to the textbook Jacob was staring at.

“You haven’t finished the equation yet,” she said softly.

“No,” Jacob said, sighing. “You kinda spaced out on me.”

“Sorry.” The steps of the problem were so simple to her that it was difficult not to become distracted once she’d solved it, but Jacob was still struggling. 

He’d managed the first two steps but was unsure which to do next, the half-erased pencil marks testament to his indecision. He just had to flip back a few pages to check, and—

Jacob snapped the book shut. “I need a break.”

“We’ve just started, Jake.”

He stared at her. “We’ve been at this for two hours, Bella.”

She frowned and looked at the clock. God, he was right. They had. How long had she—?

“Wanna go for a run? Find some pretty trees to stare at for a few hours—or maybe just Edward?” Jacob rolled his eyes at what she considered fun these days.

Bella smiled. “Sure.” She was certain Edward would like the chance to run. 

As she moved to stand, the sound of Edward’s phone ringing in another room caught her attention. She paused, listening. She didn’t need to pause, but it was a human habit, stilling the other senses to heighten the one. 

“Carlisle,” Edward said softly as he answered, sounding cautious. “We are, thank you. I didn’t expect your call.”

When Bella couldn’t make out Carlisle’s voice on the other end of the line, she knew he was intentionally speaking quietly. Concerned, she headed in Edward’s direction, Jacob trailing behind her.

“I see.” Another pause from Edward. “Yes. I understand.” His voice was tense. Something was wrong. As he came into sight, she saw him pull the phone away from his ear and press the button to end the call.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, moving towards him at vampiric speed. When she caught sight of his expression, her alarm increased. Yes, something was very wrong.

Edward frowned deeply, his pinched eyebrows showing worry and fear as he raised his eyes to hers. The words left his lips slowly, each one a reluctant refugee of hope: “The Volturi know you’ve been changed, but now they’re looking for you.”

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	52. Closer

A/N for 2021-01-01: I hope your new year is going well. This story is coming to its conclusion, wrapping up by about chapter sixty or sixty-one. As always, I offer my many thanks to the two betas who work on this story, Chayasara and Eeyorefan12. Amongst many other things, these two very sharp women pick up on my spelling errors (hanger and hangar) and remind me that two vampires and a giant wolf take up a lot of space. This story would be nowhere near where it is without them.

As well, for those of you who enjoyed reading  _ A Perfect Metaphor _ , I just added a futuretake to the story, which you can find on this site, under  _ A Perfect Metaphor: Outtakes. _

Happy reading!

Erin

* * *

“We knew this could happen,” Bella said as Edward placed his phone on the table.

He stared down at it, frowning. “Not for years.” He shook his head and moved to the window, pacing slowly as he put his hand to his head, curling his fingers tightly into his hair. 

“They gave you a deadline to change me,” Bella said, “and once you told Carlisle to tell the family about my change, it was inevitable that Alice would see it.” What had he expected would happen?

He shook his head again. “Informing Aro through Alice was to show them I had met their conditions. Even if he wanted proof, the Volturi move in their own time—very slowly. This is . . . far too fast for them.”

_ And too soon for me, _ Bella thought. Her training, as Edward had called it, had not progressed as much as she wanted though he assured her that she was making remarkable headway given her newness to her vampiric state.

“We can push it for another month, certainly, but beyond that . . .” When Edward looked at her, she saw the worry in the set of his jaw. 

She nodded, chewing on her lip before she thought better of it. It was a human habit she'd carried into this life, but it was not one that was comfortable for a newborn still learning to temper her strength.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll go together.” Edward said. 

She snapped her head up as she was struck by a frightening realization. “You can’t go with me.”

He stared at her. “You think I’m . . . You want to go alone?” He shook his head quickly. “You—do you really think I would let you—that I would trust anyone  _ else _ to go with you?”

How could he not see this? She stared at him, absorbing his words and trying to understand where his answers were coming from. It didn’t take her long to trace her way back to their roots. The memories were vague, but he had made a promise to her that he intended to keep, a promise that he would never willingly abandon her. She needed him to understand that this wasn’t the same thing. “ _ You _ can’t go, Edward,” she said softly. 

Edward moved towards her, reaching out and taking her hand and rubbing it gently. He spoke in a low near-whisper. “Demetri will be there, Bella. Think about that.”

A frisson of anger pulled a low growl from her throat. 

“And while you’re showing remarkable control for a newborn, I wouldn’t put it past him to try to provoke you so that you’d be at the mercy of Volturi justice.”

He had a point. She wasn’t her most cool and logical, but she was still herself . . . most of the time. If it came to being tested by the Volturi, she would have to master her restraint even if she feared she couldn’t. She had to, because there was no way she was going to risk Edward’s safety, not after what she’d seen during her first visit to Volterra. “If you go, Aro will want to read your mind. He’ll want to read mine, too, but we don’t think he’ll be able to. We  _ know  _ he’ll be able to read yours.” 

“As he’s read it many times before.”

“But this time, he’ll see that you’ve used Jacob to shield our plans from him, which will endanger Jacob and potentially the other Quileutes too. He’ll see everything you’ve seen in Jacob’s mind as well—all the tribe’s secrets.”

This seemed to give Edward pause but only momentarily. “And what do you think Jacob would say if I told him that you were concerned about his safety, trying to justify walking into a nest of hostile vampires by yourself?”

She could well imagine what Jacob would say just as she could also see that Edward was not blind to the main reason he couldn’t go with her to Volterra: he was just ignoring it because he was frightened for her.

“Do you think I’m going to let myself be baited by Demetri?”

He scowled slightly at the name. “Not intentionally, no.”

“But you think I’m weak or immature?”

“Of course not. It’s that . . . you’re still adjusting.”

“Has Jacob baited me?” 

Jake had tried when they’d been hunting. Nothing too bad, but there had been a few poor jokes that had tested the edges of her forbearance. She’d managed to ignore his trying to be annoying. 

“That’s not the same thing at all. Jacob is not Demetri.”

“And we carry our traits from our human lives into this one. I controlled myself around Demetri then, and I can do it now.”

Edward paused, looking down briefly and nodding. “It isn’t a question of your being able to deal with him. I think you’re strong enough for that. But I’m not going to leave you to face this by yourself.”

_ Still bent on protecting me _ , she thought.

She spoke softly. “And if I  _ want _ to go alone, to do this by myself?”

He still had her hand in his, and the grip tightened marginally. 

She continued speaking. “If you go with me, I will be worried to the point of distraction, and while you might be there to protect me, you might be the reason I need protection because of my abstraction. Aro  _ will _ read your mind, Edward. He won’t just learn about how the wolves can block Alice’s gift, he’ll know that you tried to deceive him and keep me human. He’ll see that your family will have realized that, too, at least Carlisle did. That puts everyone in danger, everyone that we both love. And if I’m worrying about that while I’m trying to keep my crap together around Demetri—things could be really, really bad.”

His grip became iron. “I completely and utterly failed to protect you the last time you went to Volterra, and you’re asking me to let you go there without me—without any protection.” He swallowed, his face creased with worry and fear—with shame.

Carefully, so as not to physically hurt him, she extracted her hand from his, raising and pressing it against his chest. “You have given me the greatest protections I could have: your love and a new life with you—one worth fighting for.” She made sure his gaze was fully fixed on her before she continued speaking. “You have already protected my heart and body. Demetri will not be a problem. Aro will want to see that I’m a vampire and if I’m gifted. And since I have no gifts, it’s going to be a quick hi and bye, and then I come home to you.”

Edward brought his own hands up to cup her face. “Things are never simple or quick with the Volturi, Bella. Never. It will be by the purest luck that it transpires that way.”

She could not help but notice the “will”—not “would.” 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what? Letting you talk me into being a coward?” Edward dropped his hands to his sides and looked away. 

She scoffed aloud. “That’s something you could never be.” She carefully reached for him again, placing her hands on his shoulders, drawing him closer, willing him to meet her gaze. When he finally did so, she raised one hand and, with infinite care, stroked his hair back from his forehead.

“Thank you for believing in me.”

He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against him. She returned the hug as gently as she could. 

When their embrace ended, he caught her gaze again, his face full of serious intent. “If I’m even going to entertain this, we need to make a plan.”

“Then let’s make one.”

\- 0 -

“We can get a little closer,” Jacob said, lifting his chin in the direction of the distant and isolated house.

“Um, yeah, no,” Bella said. She scanned the area around them, looking for signs of Edward’s return. There was no way she was risking anything without Edward right beside her.

“I wouldn’t let you do anything.” Jacob appeared offended by her inferred lack of trust.

“Uh huh,” Bella said. “You want to turn into a wolf and take me down without waking anyone up. That’ll be low-key.”

Jacob scoffed. “I’d do that well before anyone heard or saw us.”

“So you like to think.”

“I’m  _ fast _ .”

“You’re not that fast,” Bella said, arching an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t know,” Jacob said, arms crossed, mirroring her expression. 

“And we’re not going to find out right now.” He wasn’t seriously entertaining this stupid idea, was he?

Jacob grinned. 

No, he wasn’t. It was a relief to realize it.

“But later?” Jacob asked.

“Maybe later. Don’t want to hurt my best friend’s body or ego. And you do realize Edward can’t be anywhere nearby.” She punched him playfully on the arm.

“Ow!” he rubbed at the spot.

She gasped. “Sorry!” She really didn’t know her own strength yet— 

“Just kidding.” He laughed and danced back a few steps when she aimed a slightly less playful punch at him.

“See? Fast.”

Bella’s body tingled with awareness, and she turned abruptly to face Edward as he approached nearly silently from behind them. The tingle turned into a delightful shiver. 

“Well?” she asked.

“One person soundly asleep.” His serious tone swept away the playfulness she’d been starting to enjoy with Jacob. She didn’t doubt that had been his intention. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” It felt like a lie, saying it, but she was as mentally ready as she could be. She thought of Charlie and Angela and all her other human friends. Then she thought of the monstrosity of the Volturi, the shiny flash of red foil wrappers in little sticky fingers. It was a different sort of shiver that made her frame ripple with revulsion. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Jacob stepped away and shifted into his other self, returning silently to stare at her with large, watchful eyes. She would not break trust with what those eyes held in their depths nor with what she hoped for herself.

Edward and Jacob walked ahead of her as they moved into a position downwind of the distant house. When the breeze stirred the night air, she saw them both stop and then turn back to face her. It was a fraction of a second before she realized why.

“Oh.”

As Edward had instructed, she kept breathing as the new scent wafted over her, letting the fire in her throat burn. She could feel the pull of something inside her, some desire stronger than she’d ever felt before, tugging hard at every sense, trying to drag each of them beneath the surface of her conscious thought. She resisted, keeping all her senses in their places, strung together in a fragile web of awareness and moral concept. With painful and slow determination, she pinned the points of this web in place with deliberate recollections, the points representing Charlie, her mother, Phil, Angela, and then the nameless and indistinct faces of all the people she’d seen go to their deaths in the Volturi’s damnable throne room.

_ I will not be like the Volturi, _ she promised herself.  _ Not like them. _

With the resolution in place, she made herself step closer to the source of the burning. 

Edward said nothing as he and Jacob soundlessly matched her steps. 

The fire intensified.  _ The blood will be delicious, and it will make the burning go away, _ her hunger promised. Its seductive tendrils slithered up her throat and along her arms, trying to dislodge the memories pinning her senses in place.  _ Delicious. Satisfying.  _

_ Charlie, Angela, Renee, Phil. _ She repeated the names in a silent litany, forcing ever-changing recollections of their faces to move across her consciousness. She would be in control. She would not be a monster.

They were outside the door when Jacob suddenly emitted a low growl. 

Bella froze. Had she done something wrong? Did Jake sense something she did not?

“She’s fine,” Edward murmured. 

Bella turned to look at Edward. He was standing only inches away, but he made no move to restrain or even touch her in response to whatever Jake was thinking. Instead, he gave her an encouraging nod. 

“What’s Jake saying?” 

“He’s just more anxious in wolf form. Nothing to worry about. You’re in control. You can do this.” 

Could she? Jacob clearly didn’t think so. 

She checked herself again. The burning had not abated the slightest bit, but her web felt stronger, its points more surely pinned. Edward was right. 

“I can do this,” she said firmly.

She looked at Jacob as she said it, and he made a movement that she was sure was the equivalent of a wolfy shrug.

If it wouldn’t have broken her concentration, she would have laughed at this display of his personality. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Edward said, indicating the door in front of them with a tilt of his head.

She tested the points of her control again. Yes, she was ready now.

At her nod, Edward turned the knob and quietly opened the door. Slowly, she stepped inside where the scent felt like it would drown her. It was like being crucified, trying to hold on to her web with the pull of monstrous desire nearly ripping her apart. 

“I can do this.” The words were a feral growl as she repeated them through clenched teeth. She barely recognized her own voice. 

Planted just inside the door, she regarded the frail man’s age-weathered hands and face, knowing he was a person with a life and loves and reasons to live. The fire receded —first from her hands and feet, then shrinking to her throat and then into her stomach where it fizzled into a low but manageable simmer. 

She was not a monster. 

“You did it.” Edward’s hand brushed against hers, the first time he had touched her throughout the ordeal, the pride evident in his voice. She  _ had _ done it. Stood by a human. She was standing by a defenseless and vulnerable human and not out of her mind with thirst.

Her excitement made the flames flicker in her throat. She quickly doused them again. She was one step closer to travelling to show herself to the Volturi and perhaps even one step closer to helping to extract Alice and Jasper from their servitude and reuniting her new family

\- 0 -

Bella never thought she’d find herself longing for the ability to fly on a commercial airline, certainly not as a newborn vampire. Still, travelling by such means would have forced a separation from Edward long before Bella had to step onto a plane. As it was, she stood outside the hangar of a remote airfield with her back to him, his arms around her, his face pressed against her hair, his hands moving up and down her arms. She understood the action was meant to soothe her, but she knew it was an attempt to soothe himself too.

Being apart had been painful when she was human. The idea now was torture. They hadn’t been away from each other for any time at all since her transformation almost two months before. This would be a period of days, given the logistics required for international travel.

And such travel it would be.

The long-range Gulfstream was an aircraft that even she could appreciate. Edward had given her the tour of the Cullens’ private jet when it had landed. Now that the other Cullens knew of her change, using the family resources was of no consequence. Edward would travel home to Forks with Jacob on a commercial flight to wait for her arrival—a most discreet affair that would be conducted under the cover of night. She couldn’t be seen by anyone she knew, but it would allow for—here she shied away from the unhappy thought. It was easier to think more generally about how her human life would appear to come to an end, not how it would break Charlie’s heart in the process.

For now, she needed to focus on the task at hand. They would say goodbye. She would fly to Pisa and drive to Volterra in a car already waiting for her in Italy, stopping in a remote area Edward had marked on a map to hunt along the way. She would present herself to the Volturi and then leave, returning home to her mate and her family. She had no desire to linger in Italy nor did she think she could bear to be separated from Edward for a minute longer than was necessary.

The jet’s two pilots were behind schedule. Bella watched as they circled the plane on the tarmac, going through a safety check. She had heard them discussing a problem with the fuel truck. It was fixed now, but her departure time had been pushed back.

Edward’s hands kept firmly stroking up and down her arms.

“Just a few days,” she said, reminding him, reminding herself.

Edward’s hands slowed. “Yes.” His tone was even, but she knew the feelings hidden behind his calm veneer. She felt them too.

Crud. She would have been better off waiting silently. She’d had to reassure him repeatedly about her going alone. He’d argued to accompany her to Britain at least, pointing out that he would be safe at such a distance. She’d countered that it would do nothing but strengthen his scent on her, possibly rousing suspicions on Aro’s part if Bella’s mind was shielded to him. No, they needed to part here in Argentina. She steeled herself for a renewal of Edward’s arguments, mentally mustering her own counterarguments in case they were needed.

She was ready. Her ability to be near humans was irreproachable. She had passed every test Edward could devise, and the tests had been thorough. Short of shoving a bloodied human in front of her, Edward had done everything else he could think of to make sure she was prepared to encounter human beings. In the last week, he, Bella, and Jacob had walked the streets of the nearby town, ridden alone in taxis and then in buses packed with locals, and as a final test, had passed by the ventilation outlets for the surgical wing of the hospital in Salta, the scent of blood damp and heavy. It had been its own torture, withstanding the enticing odour, but she’d done so, holding her breath for periods of time, pinning her constellation of humans in place. There were too many people she loved—human and vampire alike—whose safety she would not risk. She was ready.

Edward knew she was ready too. She’d read it enough in his eyes and body language. He was as proud of her as he had been demanding throughout this process. 

It just sucked that she had to do this at all.

“It’s just a hi and bye,” she reminded him.

“Hi and bye,” he repeated, his nose buried in her hair. “And if there are any problems, my young Padawan?”

“Do you want me to recite the entire plan for you right now, Jedi Master Cullen?” If only either of them had such powers. At least he had made an attempt at humor for her sake.

“No.” She felt his lips move into a smile. “But I’m glad you know it by heart.”

She rested her hand on his chest, pulling back so she could see his face. 

“We’re ready,” one of the pilots called. “And if we’re going to make our timeslot . . .” He looked at his watch.

Bella nodded in the pilot’s direction and then turned back to Edward. “I should go.”

His jaw tightened and he nodded too, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She returned the hug, finally confident in her ability to do so without hurting him. As she walked towards the plane, though, she glanced back, seeing the carefully concealed anguish in his expression, a feeling she knew they shared. She forced herself to lift her hand in a mock salute, grinning at him, and was rewarded with that crooked smile that could still turn her insides to mush. Blowing a final kiss, she stepped inside the plane, the flight attendant shutting and latching the door behind her. 

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	53. A good bargain

A/N for 2021-01-?: Well, didn't 2021 start out with a bang? And not the kind we want, either. Here's to all of us for getting through last year and its hangover into this one. Hopefully things improve from here on out.

A reading recommendation: I'm currently enjoying "Everlasting Why" by suitablyironicmoniker, which is a delightfully written story featuring our beloved vampire Edward and a human Isabella. She's his social worker. I'll leave it there.

Finally, my thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their editorial, logistical, and moral support with this story, and at times, my real life.

Best,

Erin

* * *

"How very interesting," Aro said, hands pressed together before him in an almost prayerlike pose. "You've returned alone." His eyes flicked between Bella and Demetri.

Bella mustered all the courage she could. "I believe it was only _my_ presence that was required."

"Indeed." Returning one hand to Alice's, Aro extended his other to Marcus, who sat beside him, eyes seemingly unfocused. "As ever, it seems," Aro murmured, letting go of Marcus's hand.

 _As ever what?_ Bella wondered.

"Regrettably, not as you had hoped," Aro said to Demetri.

Demetri said nothing, standing several feet away from Bella. His gaze remained fixed on her, his expression stony.

Aro stood. "Come here, my dear." He extended his free hand to Bella.

Bella looked briefly at Alice, who remained as unmoving and impassive as she had since Bella had stepped into the throne room. There were no clues to be had there, then, not that it would be safe for Alice to even think of helping her. Bella looked to Aro instead, approaching him with what she hoped was a brave face. His hand still looked velvety, but now that her vision was more precise, she could see that it was a dusty sort of accumulation that created this effect. His skin was coated with—yes, dust. _Eww._

Placing her hand in his, she sucked in a breath. God, she hoped this worked, that Edward was right.

Aro tilted his head, grasping her hand tightly. After a moment, his loud, "Ha!" made her jump slightly. "Still!" He turned to Jane. "Your turn, my dear."

Standing beside Aro, Alice gasped but otherwise stayed still.

After her tiny moment of relief, Bella tensed, expecting the worst. Again, it was for nothing. A few moments passed, and Jane growled in obvious frustration.

Bella returned the sound.

"Now, now, Jane. We must all learn to manage our . . . disappointments." Aro looked to Demetri again.

Bella allowed her gaze to follow his and immediately wished she hadn't. Demetri's eyes smoldered with what she could only imagine was jealousy or rage.

She forced her eyes to focus again on Aro. "Are you satisfied?" She had no interest in being toyed with. There'd been more than enough of that before.

"Oh, quite," Aro said. He stared at her, and her heart sank as she saw the look on his face. She had seen that scheming expression too many times before to mistake it for anything else.

She swallowed.

"You will make an excellent addition to the guard."

Despite Edward's warning, her eyes widened marginally. Aro was damnably brazen. The tiny and hopeful—or stupidly naive—part of her had hoped he would honour the bargain he'd made when he took Jasper and Alice in her and Edward's place.

There was no way she was going to be a willing participant in his games. "Thank you, but I have no wish to join the guard."

A wave of laughter swept the room, Aro's high pitched giggle trilling over top of it all.

"Oh my dear, and here I thought Demetri had rid you of your youthful innocence."

If there was anything Aro could say to rile her, it was this. A growl burred in her throat.

"You bargained with your life, Bella." Aro wagged his finger at her as if she were a misbehaving child. No doubt he thought of her so.

"You accepted Jasper and Alice's lives in place of mine and Edward's." There'd been a room full of witnesses to this bargain. Edward had assured her of this.

"Oh no, no, no." Aro repeated his annoying cackle. "The bargain was to release you until your change. I think Edward must have misunderstood. Isn't that right, Alice?"

"As you say, Aro," Alice said demurely. She didn't look at Bella but kept her gaze fixed on some faraway spot on the wall.

 _Where's Jasper?_ Bella thought again. Surely Alice wouldn't be playing patsy to Aro without his having some control over her or her husband. There was something more going on.

"Your bargain was for life, my dear. Yours for Edward's . . . although I understand that things have changed on that score. Perhaps Edward might be convinced to join you here . . . after all, I am only collecting on what is owed to me."

Around her, the circle of guard members took a step closer. _No!_ She knew her tensing body was communicating her refusal as much as any words could. But surely they couldn't make her—could they? Her newborn strength alone—

Her thoughts were cut off by a sudden embrace from behind by two very powerful arms, trapping her own against her, lifting her slightly from the floor. Instinctively, she kicked out at her captor but was swung away so her feet could not make contact. Each of her jerky movements was similarly and successfully counteracted.

"Gentle, Felix." Aro spoke evenly. "I doubt Demetri would appreciate your damaging the object of his affections—even if the feeling is not returned."

Trying to dislodge herself again, Bella twisted her arm, but all the torque was taken on herself, and there was an unsettling crack and sharp pain that accompanied it. She swore silently.

"So many gifts in the guard. Felix's is very simple: he has incredible strength, greater even than that of a newborn." He paused, tilting his head a little. "I do wish Eleazar was still with us. It would be much easier to discern _your_ gift."

Bella wasn't sure who Eleazar was, not that she had much attention to spare since all her focus was on trying not to panic. Her human memories were strong enough to rekindle the fear she'd felt the last time a vampire had physically compelled her.

Seated on the dais once again, Aro leaned back leisurely in his throne, Alice's hand in his. "Well, that will surely settle things." He smiled at Alice. "I do appreciate your gift, my dear. So useful." He turned back to Bella. "It seems that the Cullens have attracted a rather . . . intrepid enemy. Hmm?"

 _What?_ Bella became very still.

Aro looked to Alice again. "Let's see . . . Victoria? Yes. Victoria. She plans on attacking your family with quite a large cohort of newborn companions. How distressing. Such a pity no one can warn them." He sighed and then turned back to Bella, tilting his head while eyeing her with a calculating smile on his face.

Bella's skin felt as if it was crawling, her stomach churning with a queasiness that had nothing to do with her physical well-being. She knew the brutality of the choice he was offering her. She thought of the plans that she and Edward had made and how unnecessary they'd seemed at the time. All of a sudden, they had become something else: a thread of distant possibility. Still, they hadn't considered Victoria as a possible complication.

"However, if you were to give your word that you would stay with us, I would not be opposed to allowing you to warn your family of Victoria's imminent attack." Aro glanced towards Alice. "Yes, you can see when, can't you?"

Alice nodded her head , a wooden gesture to match her glassy gaze.

Aro sighed again as if uttering his next words was an unpleasant task. "But first, I think you should appreciate your options. Felix, please show Bella where we house our more recalcitrant recruits. Demetri, perhaps you can explain our methodology?"

Without ceremony, Bella was yanked from the throne room, dragged through the reception area and then towards the library. Moving at a speed that would have dizzied her as a human, she now grasped the details that had been explained to her in her human time there. The library truly was quieter than the rest of the castle, and this silence increased the further they went into its lower levels. Except, with only silence from the outside, another sound grew in correlating decibels. Someone was growling—no, screaming or shrieking. As they reached the large vault-like doors at the lowest level, the sounds grew even louder. The door was slightly ajar, then abruptly pulled open by—yes, Erastus. His gaze was circumspectly lowered, not even a familiar glance for Bella. She said nothing, not wanting to endanger him with attention that might be considered inappropriate—not that she had much to give since she was so fully restrained by Felix's grip.

The space beyond the door was in sharp contrast to the light stone of the library, grimy dark rocks glistening with the damp atmosphere. Her sense of smell told her they were near the city's sewers. A large chamber was lit by a dim bulb strung from the ceiling. Around the space were ten anvil-shaped objects set into the floor, these made of some sort of metal. Each had circular clamps near their base that stuck out perpendicular to the floor. As her eyes swept the space, Bella realized that they were not mechanical clamps but rather, restraints. In the darkest recesses of the room, a single vampire was strapped down over one of the anvils, his body straining with what looked like spasms.

"Do you wish to train him?" Erastus asked Demetri.

Deemetri nodded, his expression grim.

Erastus moved to the far wall, twirling a wheel-shaped door lock, this opening another, smaller vault-like door. Behind it was a woman—a human. Gianna!

Bella gasped.

Though she appeared fairly clean, Gianna reeked of sweat and terror. Without speaking, she crawled backwards and hunched in the spot farthest from the door.

Bella held her breath but did not struggle in Felix's grasp. Her throat burned out of instinct, but her horror at what her body might do gave her mind full control over it. She would not hurt a human. She would not. _Don't be like them_ , she told herself. _Remember who you are._

The restrained vampire seemed to have no such compunction, thrashing and shrieking with want. It made her cringe, just hearing the raw hunger in its voice. It was so sub-human, her resolve nearly faltered at the sound.

"Shall I increase the threshold?" Erastus asked.

"You may as well." Demetri sounded bored. He stood just in front of Bella now, looking back at her meaningfully.

In the tiny cell, Gianna whimpered.

Moving calmly, Erastus plucked a knife from a hook on the wall. It was shiny and its blade well sharpened. Bella watched Erastus unstopper a bottle beside it, pouring rubbing alcohol over its length.

Oh, she realized, understanding the purpose of the disinfectant.

Without touching her, Erastus moved at vampire speed towards Gianna, nicking her arm and releasing a tiny speck of blood. Her arm featured a ladder of bright red welts, and as Bella caught sight of her other arm, she saw that it matched as well. Gianna began to shake, and Bella could well imagine why. The vampire's shrieking became a deafening howl, the thrashing making the metal creak and rattle. The sickly-sweet smell of venom was everywhere, splattering from the vampire's mouth and dripping onto the stone floor with a loud patter.

"That's enough," Demetri said. Bella watched him swallow. Yes, even he was uncomfortably thirsty. Behind her, Bella could hear Felix swallowing, too.

Erastus closed the cell door, sealing off the smell of blood and the whimpering within.

_My God, how long had they had her down here?_

Behind her, Bella felt Felix relax. Demetri's shoulders eased slightly, too.

Demetri turned to Bella, an expression in his eyes that made her tense again against Felix's grip. Nothing good came from such a look, and nothing good came from Demetri. She was just beginning to assess her best chance at slipping from Felix's grip when Demetri spoke again.

"Restrain her," Demetri said.

As Felix began to move her towards one of the anvils, Bella tried to twist her way free of his hold, but it was as unmoving as the stone floor. She was soon forced over one of the metal forms. Felix pinned her chest-first onto the hard surface, securing first one arm and then a foot and then the rest of her limbs. Just like that of the other restrained vampire, her thrashing was useless.

"Leave." Demetri was clearly superior in rank to Felix, and his colleague obeyed without comment.

Demetri waited until the door closed behind Erastus and Felix before approaching her. They were on the opposite side of the room from the other vampire, whose grunts and snarls had dropped to a low enough level to become background-noise.

"These are very old," Demetri said, "so it was necessary to update them." He tapped at the metal cuff that restrained Bella's ankle. "Titanium." He let his digit continue its journey up her leg with his whole hand pausing just above her belt, threatening to edge under her shirt. "These were here when Aro routed the old order. They, too, had two ranks, their aristocracy and their Dacians." He chuckled. "Not that Aro ever told Carlisle, but the Dacians drank from animals too. Aro felt that this was too cruel a treatment even for the most menial of us, hence our training of our own Lower Order." He lifted his chin towards the other vampire. "He will serve one of the new guard members, and even he will be allowed human blood, but it will be cool and from a corpse. It is enough to sustain him, though as you can see, the training is . . . difficult."

Demetri continued to move his hand, skipping over the edge of her shirt and resting it on her back. "I do not wish to see you here, my Bella. This is not what I want for you." His tone was probably meant to be soothing, but it only dredged up more memories reminding her how despicable he was. "You have been offered a place in the guard. It is a privileged position. And Aro would not want you if he did not suspect you were gifted." She heard him give an exaggerated sigh. "How can you not understand what an honor this is?"

Demetri paused then as if waiting on her answer. Bella wondered if the honor to which he referred was the offer to be in the guard—or to be with him. Deciding it would be best not to spit on his feet, which were the only part of him that she could see, she said nothing, trying to think her way through this problem.

"You can warn Edward and the rest of his coven. They will be safe. You only need to stay here in Volterra"—he chuckled—"in much nicer accomodations than this."

Again, he paused. Again, she said nothing.

He bent down and leaned closer, whispering in her ear. "Of course, it would be quite something to take pleasure with you this way."

Her stomach felt as if it had leapfrogged into her throat. Even after Aro's comments in the throne room, it appeared that Demetri was still going to pursue this—pursue _her_. And she would be helpless to stop him right now. She felt a growl building in her chest.

"I understand that Edward may be attempting once again to claim you as his mate," he said, straightening up again. "Remember that I cautioned you about this when I visited you at your father's home. Perhaps Edward believes that because he has turned you, you now belong to him." Demetri's tone took on an almost convincing tone of sincerity. "I do not know what he has told you, my Bella, but the loyalty that you might feel for him is not unusual for any newborn to feel for their sire. It is a natural response, but it is not a mate bond. You have been misled."

He slid his hand once more down her back to her waist and then slipped it under her shirt. "I am happy you have returned to Volterra. And now that you are like me, I am able to enjoy you without restraint." With his other hand, he waved to indicate the cuffs around her wrists again before chuckling at his own joke. Then he stroked Bella's hair away from the side of her face and tucked it behind her ear in an unwelcome gesture of intimacy that further emphasized her helplessness.

Her skin shivered with revulsion at his touch. _He wouldn't_ , she told herself. _He won't_. _Not now that I can defend myself. Certainly not if I agree to stay and be one of the guard._ And that was really the only option available to her at this moment.

If she said she would stay, she could warn Edward and the rest of the Cullens. And as long as they were alive, there was still a chance for them to help get her and Alice and Jasper out of here. She thought again of the plans she and Edward had made in Argentina.

She closed her eyes in temporary defeat before uttering the words. "I'll agree to Aro's conditions so long as I can warn my family." There were other things she wanted to make conditional, but she would bargain with Aro, not Demetri.

"Very good," Demetri said. He still had a hand under her shirt, fingers massaginging the bare skin at her waist. He grunted, leaning forward and briefly pressing his erection against her hip. Then he stepped away, bending down to release her restraints. "Understand though, my Bella, that any subterfuge on your part will be paid for by the members of your former coven, starting with Edward and then continuing with the rest of them."

Bella righted herself, backing away and hissing at him.

He chuckled, leaning against the adjacent anvil. She wondered if she had enough skill to overpower and restrain him. Biting someone in the ass had never been so appealing as it was now. She stood still instead. She would not risk her family, not even to rip Demetri to pieces.

"I am pleased you understand. And your control"—-he lifted an eyebrow-—-"impressive." He chuckled. "Come. You will tell Aro of your acquiescence yourself."

As she walked back through the library, she caught sight of Marcus the Lesser at the far end of an aisle of books. His eyes met hers only briefly, quickly resettling on the book he was holding but not so quickly that she missed the tiny smile on his lips and the glint in his eye. She might have an ally here—one whose thoughts would be safe from Aro, too.

When they reached the throne room, Aro smiled. "That was rather quick, Demetri. Did you not have the heart to demonstrate our methods as I requested?"

"He demonstrated them just fine, thank you." Bella's voice communicated her displeasure clearly.

Aro lifted an eyebrow. "Then I assume you've—"

"When will the attack happen? Where? By whom and with how many? Are there multiple scenarios?" She was not going to be jerked around in getting the information she needed, and she knew that Alice's visions were highly susceptible to change.

Aro chuckled. "I see you've learned to set a better bargain for yourself." He glanced briefly at Alice. "So Alice believes within ten days near the Cullens' home in a meadow you are familiar with. It's very clear. There are no other visions related to it. Does this satisfy you, my dear?"

 _Their meadow?_ She frowned but nodded. "I'll accept your terms, but I need to notify my family now. And . . ." She paused, partly in uncertainty about proper protocol, but mostly to make sure everyone was paying attention. "As I believe you are aware, I am mated now. I need everyone to be very clear about who my mate is"—she turned to give Demetri a dark look and a snarl—"and who he isn't."

Demetri glowered. Bella ignored him as best she could.

"Of course." Aro smirked slightly, looking amused. "Now that you have decided to stay, it would be lovely if your Edward chose to return to us. He would be most welcome." Then Aro seemed to ignore her pronouncement completely with his next words. "And now, Demetri will happily assist you with contacting your family."

Like hell he would. "No."

Marcus, who had sat like a statue during this entire time, now came to life, rolling his eyes. Bella had never heard him speak before, and as he did now, his voice sounded so weary, he might as well be dragging it across the tile floor. "Enough of this pointless cruelty, Aro. Her mate bond could not be clearer, and it was clear enough before. Now that it has been consummated . . ." He gave a careless shrug before turning his face back towards the wall which he had been staring at since she had arrived.

No one acknowledged that he'd spoken, Aro's gaze remaining fixed on Bella. Beside him, Caius watched as well. Their stillness was perfect.

Bella refused to be cowed though it would have been very easy to be discouraged. "Anyone but him." Her voice was close to a growl.

"As you wish," Aro said, chuckling a little.

Bella held her features steady. He could tease all he wished, but she would not rise to the bait. She thought of her training with Edward and Jacob over the last two months, remembering how she had learned to focus only on her own body's responses and to master them when confronted with tests designed to break her concentration and patience. Her lessons, though necessarily rushed, had been thorough. She could do this. She had promised Edward. She would not let him or herself down.

"Chelsea, see that she has what she needs." Aro waved his hand in Bella's direction, and a woman in a grey suit approached her.

"This way, please," she said quietly as she passed by.

Nervously, Bella followed the unfamiliar figure out of the room, hoping that this new bargain she had made would keep Edward and the rest of the Cullens safe for now. It was not a bargain she planned to keep, in any case; she would be breaking it at the first opportunity. She knew what she had to do, but for now she needed to exercise the one ability that was hardest for her as a newborn: patience.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	54. Volterra, again

A/N for 2020-01-16: My most sincere and heartfelt thanks to both Chayasara and eeyorefan12, who both make this story so much better (and also keep me from embarrassing myself with plot and writing mistakes!).

As well, real life is a bit more complicated these days, so while I will post regularly, that might not be on a regular day.

Best wishes to you all,

Erin

* * *

Chelsea was tiny. Bella watched her neat brunette bun wobble slightly as they walked, pins loosening infinitesimally with each step. Their path was an unfamiliar one to Bella, winding through as yet unexplored corridors that seemed to meander far away from the throne room.

When Chelsea paused at the end of one of them, she gestured to the entryway of a chamber, politely smiling at Bella. “This is for you.”

Bella stepped forward, pushing the unlatched door open. There was no lock. She supposed there was no point, given that the doors only provided privacy from curious eyes but not ears.

She spotted the piano against the far wall at the same time that the scent wafting from the room hit her like a tidal wave.

_ Edward! _

Bella could see that Chelsea was watching for her reaction, which she quickly smoothed from her face. 

“We’re not monsters, Bella.” There was surprising softness in the other vampire’s voice, but Bella knew better than to believe it was anything more than courtesy.

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Marcus the Lesser will see that you have the credit cards you need to make any required purchases.”

Bella nodded, thinking of her rental car and bag, parked nearby. “I left a car just outside the city.”

“It’s already been taken care of.” Chelsea smiled again. “Standard practise. Any vampire coming within a few miles is investigated. Of course, we were aware that you were arriving today.”

Yes, Alice would have seen her coming once she had left Jacob with Edward at the airport in Argentina. And her scent in the car would likely have been enough to tell them it was hers. Even though her scent might be different following her change, Edward had assured her that she still smelled nearly the same to him. Then he had smiled almost bashfully when he had added “ _ and a little bit like me.” _

_ I’m so sorry, Edward. _

This parting would not be forever, but he had been right—it would be for a time. She eyed Chelsea, recalling what Edward had told her about the members of the guard. This one was responsible for tying them all together in purpose and bonds of loyalty. Did her gift work on Bella? If it did, there was no evidence of it yet. She checked her emotions. No warm and fuzzy feelings towards the guard in any way, only the continued revulsion she’d felt from the minute she’d come within eyesight of Volterra. The intense, physical yearning that had begun the moment she and Edward had parted was still a constant ache inside her. “It’s not working on me, is it? Your gift?”

“No.” If this bothered Chelsea, it didn’t show. “But I’m not trying very hard, and you have other things that tie you to us. Not everyone requires my gift.”

Interesting. Bella settled her gaze on the piano against the wall, unable to keep from wondering.

Chelsea seemed to realize where Bella’s thoughts had gone. “He was quite . . . resistant,” she said with just a trace of a smile.

_ I’ll bet the mind-reading didn’t help,  _ Bella thought to herself smugly. Still, she felt a moment’s gratitude that Chelsea had been willing to share that information with her. 

Chelsea pulled a phone from her pocket. “Would you like me to send your message?”

“Yes.” Bella eyed the phone; her own had been taken from her when she entered the castle. Would Chelsea let her speak with Edward? Her stomach tightened with both anticipation and fear. She needed to warn them. However, a chance to hear Edward’s voice—

But no. Chelsea asked for the number, which she typed into the messaging screen. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as Bella dictated the message. When Bella asked to see it before it was sent, Chelsea turned the screen toward her. 

Bella read the message. She’d communicated everything Alice had told her, including her own coded message to Edward. He would understand she wasn’t returning for now but that she was not in distress. Was it enough though? Would he have questions? She read it over and over again until Chelsea’s eyebrows lifted.

“I want to make sure it’s . . . thorough,” Bella stammered.

“I can imagine.” Chelsea pulled the phone back, tapping the button to send the message.

What if she’d forgotten something? Bella racked her brain.

“If they reply with questions, I will seek answers. Aro wished for them to be fully informed.”

Bella relaxed her shoulders as a sense of relief flowed over her. “Thank you.”

Chelsea nodded, looking her in the eyes. “You are part of the guard now, Bella. We support each other.”

In killing other vampires and humans, among other atrocities. No thank you. Not the kind of club she wanted to belong to. 

Chelsea could clearly see some doubt in her expression. “You will see, and I think you will feel it soon, too.”

Bella could only hope not.

Chelsea smiled a little. “You are very new to this life, and even though I’m sure your initial training was very intensive, your innate control is exceptional. This is talent enough, but Aro must suspect you have more.” She tilted her head to the side. “Hmm. You could be a truly great addition to the guard. I’m very curious to see how your gift manifests itself.”

Bella wanted nothing more than to squash the guard and Volturi under her foot, Aro first of all.

But before that could happen, she needed help, and if there was kindness here, there might be support too. She tucked away Chelsea’s gentle laughter and helpfulness into a mental pocket of possibilities.

\- 0 -

“Again,” Jane said. She jumped back several paces from Bella.

Picking herself up from the floor, Bella would have liked to say that it was for the nth time, but her vampire mind would not let her forget even one of the solid punches or blows Jane had landed while working with her over the past several days. Ostensibly, the objective each time was to “help” Bella discern her possible defensive gift and then train her to utilize it.

So far, the only thing she had learned was how to fall down painfully. 

Bella had quailed at the idea of Jane being her “trainer.” She had initially wondered why the vampire whose gifts had no effect on her had been chosen for this role, but she was not confused for long. Jane might not be the best fighter among the guard since her talent kept her from having to defend herself in other ways, but it was clear that she relished doling out physical punishment just as much as the mental anguish Bella had seen her dispense so many times. In addition, the woman’s resentment toward Bella’s lack of vulnerability to her gift was obvious. Yes, Jane was enjoying these sessions. 

“Pull your nose out, or it will heal crookedly.” Jane stood with her arms folded, a smirk on her face. “Or I can just break it for you again, if you like.”

Bella pinched the bridge of her nose as well as the tip, straightening it without trying to show just how much it hurt, because, ugh, it stung like hell.

“Again.” Jane was panther-like, her form gliding around the large, circular room in smooth movements. “Protect yourself—if you can.” She laughed.

They were hours into their session today. Of course, “today” was a fuzzy concept. She’d been part of the guard for four days now—though it seemed more like a week. Time slipped away when it wasn’t measured by sleep or sight of the sun. Her private chamber was a windowless one, its only merit being that it had once been inhabited by Edward. His scent permeated the upholstery of the chair in which he’d obviously sat. She sat in it, too, when she could or sometimes at the piano, her hands resting on the same keys that his fingers had touched as he had played his heart’s song for her. The only day that mattered, of course, was the date marked in her mind like a beacon, and it was the one she’d sent to Edward. If she was calculating correctly, it was tomorrow. But Jane was not letting her sit or think of dates today, not that she’d had any real leisure time to do so. Most of Bella’s forced service was spent in this large and also windowless room being pummeled by Jane, futilely struggling to defend herself against attacks that grew more and more creative and brutal. 

Bella tried to let her instincts supersede her more conscious thoughts as Jane had instructed her, matching the other vampire’s pace as she moved around the room. She countered Jane’s movement as she darted to the left, then feinted right. It was easier now to follow her movements, for all the good it did her. Usually, it only provided the ability to see Jane coming before the next blow landed since she was helpless to counter it. This time at least, she was able to dodge the attack. 

“Better.” Jane hadn’t praised her technique before. Bella didn’t like it. 

“Very good.” Demetri’s voice drew her attention and Bella turned to hiss, instincts roused to attack—

“Dead,” Jane said, already moving her foot off of Bella’s head, which had met the stone floor the moment her attention had been diverted. She sighed. “Another wasted day. You defend yourself. You defend your fellow guard members. You’re not meant to die.” She stepped away. “We’re done for today.” Without any further acknowledgment, she turned and walked from the room.

Bella kept an eye on Demetri, who had moved closer, eyeing her appraisingly as he did so.

“Leave,” she said, practically growling.

He said nothing, still watching her, not moving.

“Do you need me to yank off some of your appendages before you understand my message?”

He smirked. “You overestimate yourself, my Bella, but I would be pleased to assess any new skills you’ve acquired.” She didn’t miss his derisive tone.

“I’m not joking, asshole. You raped me. I’ll begin by removing the body part that offends me most. I’ll give you a hint: it’s not going to be the one with the head that holds your brain.”

“So crude, your humour. And to think, you were so innocent before.” He licked his lips, holding up his hands and curling his fingers towards himself in a mocking summons. “Show me.” The smirk appeared again as he took another step in her direction. 

It was a violent wash of red that swam over her vision, all logic and sense escaping her, all her careful training with Edward forgotten. She remembered enough of what Demetri had done to enrage her newly empowered body. Her assault lacked all subtlety, and she hissed, lunging at him. Though he pivoted to avoid her tackle, he was too slow to evade her newborn speed, and she caught his side, bringing him down to the floor.

There was no holding anything back. She punched her fist into his face with a satisfying crunch, but only once. He rocked them over so she was on the floor with him yanking her arm behind her back. With a grunt, she brought her knees under her torso, springing up and back to slam his body onto the stone tiles again. It was enough of a shock that he let go of her, and she twisted around to pin his wrists with one of her hands, the other reaching for the appendage she’d promised to destroy.

“Stop! That’s enough, Bella.” The voice rang with such authority that it snapped her out of the violent haze engulfing her.

_ Jasper? _

She stood instantly, stepping away from Demetri, who righted himself just as quickly. He dusted off his clothes.

Bella was exceedingly pleased to see the scowl on his face.

_ Yes, that was your dick I was about to rip— _

“Aro has asked me to assist with her training. I’ll do so alone, thank you.” Jasper’s voice was even but icy, and although it wasn’t directed at her, Bella was sure she was feeling the influence of Jasper’s gift as he projected a strong sense of rejection onto the other guard member. 

Demetri’s hand rubbed at his jaw as he registered the lack of welcome. “Aro ordered it?”

Jasper said nothing, his gaze locked on Demetri. 

Without further commentary, Demetri turned and walked away, the door thudding closed behind him.

“You didn’t need to stop me,” Bella said.

“Oh, I did. I’m sure Edward must have told you that intentional harm of another guard member is punishable. You’ve seen examples of what constitutes punishment here.”

Her eyes widened with sudden realization. Yes, Edward had not only cautioned her, it had been his greatest fear for her. If she’d—

“You’d have been at Demetri’s mercy if you’d done what you intended to do.”

Bella swallowed hard as she stared down at her feet, considering the implications of Jasper’s comment. “Yes, Edward did tell me, but I just wasn’t thinking,” she murmured.

“I’ve been observing your so-called  _ training _ from afar,” Jasper said, his voice sounding almost formal to her ears. “While I understand the need to discern what gifts you may have, it’s counterproductive to have a member of the guard who is unable to physically defend themselves. As a member of the security force here, I’ve explained this to Aro, and he’s agreed to let me work with you. He understands that you might be more receptive to training from a familiar source.” 

She nodded, thoughts still preoccupied with what Demetri had hinted at in the gruesome chamber by the library on her first day here. She would have to be much more careful. She had promised Edward so faithfully that she could manage herself around Demetri, and at the first real test, she’d failed. If she’d harmed Demetri, she could only imagine what kind of punishment he would have demanded.

Belatedly, she realized that Jasper had stopped speaking, and she took a moment to replay his words to herself. Then she looked up at him, really looking this time. She remembered what Edward had told her about the first time the rest of the Cullens had met Jasper, how the marks he bore from his former life had made them wary of him. With her newborn eyes, she saw those scars now, the evidence of probably hundreds of battles etched across his face and neck, and she waited for her own reaction, to feel the anxiety and caution she had expected, but it wasn’t there. All she felt was relief—and an overwhelming sense of gratitude that he’d stopped her in time.

“Thank you,” she said, hoping she had imbued the words with all the sincerity they deserved. 

“You’re welcome.” A small smile made Jasper’s lips curl up a bit at the corners. He lowered his voice, speaking softly this time. “It’s good to see you again, Bella, circumstances aside.”

She held his gaze. How stupid and thoughtless she had been a few minutes ago. He and Alice had given up their lives for hers.  _ That _ she remembered, though she had no real memory of the event itself, only what Edward had explained to her. “I’m sorry, Jasper. I owe you so much—”

“You don’t.” His face was serious. “I nearly killed you. My lack of control, well . . . you know what happened because of my lack of control. And now we are all . . . we are where we are. Even being mated to someone who sees the future, it seems we cannot avoid all our mistakes.”

Bella’s heart ached, thinking of all that had transpired in the last year. So very much—and so much of it painful.

“Did she seem well to you?” Jasper asked.

Bella struggled for a moment, trying to place the “she.” “Alice?” 

Jasper nodded.

“I think so. You haven’t—?”

“We’re not allowed to see one another often, just when we need to hunt or when Aro isn’t in the throne room. Aro prefers that Alice is not . . . distracted.”

Though she’d tried not to recall the cruel separation forced upon her and Edward in their recent time in Volterra, it had been even more agonizing for both of them when she’d left him to return alone. But Aro was doing the same thing to Jasper and Alice? She shook her head, her anger eclipsing her grief for her new brother and sister, and it only strengthened her resolve. Aro would pay. 

She gave silent thanks again for Aro’s inability to read her thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “You must be miserable having to be apart from your mate.”

“As are you,” he said. “Especially now.”

She nodded, knowing he wouldn’t need a verbal response. 

“I will admit, I was surprised to see you arrive alone. Was Edward . . . unable to come with you?” She heard the concern in his voice and realized that if things were working as they had hoped, Alice would still not be able to see Edward. 

How much could she safely say to Jasper? She had no doubt that Alice would see, probably had  _ already  _ seen this conversation. She thought carefully before replying, “He is well, but we . . . he decided to go home to start working on a cover story for me. I was supposed to be right behind him.”

“That’s . . . it’s amazing, Bella, that he isn’t here. I don’t know how you managed it, actually.” Jasper’s tone was still incredulous, and while Bella understood his fascination, she suddenly felt offended on Edward’s behalf. 

“We decided together, Jasper,” she said. “Yes, he wasn’t happy about it, and neither was I, but . . . we  _ planned  _ this together.” 

He smiled at her then. “Easy, darlin’. I was just surprised, that’s all. I know what you mean to my brother, and we both know how, uh . . . protective he is.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Looks like you might have changed him almost as much as he changed you.” 

Slightly mollified, and realizing that her newborn emotions were probably making her defense of her mate feel more imperative than it was, she let it go. There were so many more important issues at play here. 

Bella gave a small shrug. “Well, now it looks like a good thing he went home.” 

When she saw Jasper’s puzzled expression, she realized that since he hadn’t been in the throne room, he might not even know about the approaching attack on their family. If he hadn’t seen his wife, would anyone else have filled him in? Bella wished she hadn’t brought it up. There was nothing either of them could do at this point, and Bella didn’t want to impose the agony of her own helplessness on him. She also didn’t want Aro to be aware of her “tattling.” 

“So you haven’t seen Alice in a while?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the subject.

Jasper shook his head. “But if you saw her, and she looked well, it’s enough.” He seemed eager to believe she was all right whether or not this was the case. And he didn’t ask any more questions of Bella, which was a relief. He glanced around the room as if just realizing that they were there for a reason. “But you need to learn to fight, and that is something with which I have more than enough experience.”

The newborn wars. She recalled what Edward had explained about them. “Of course.”

“Edward told you?”

“A little.” She’d read about them in Carlisle’s treatise, too.

“Good. Let’s see what you know.”

After Jasper spent a few minutes going over some basic defensive moves with her, he began to teach her in earnest. Not that she had much to go on, but Jasper was clearly a much better fighter than Jane. After several days of torture at that woman’s hands, she couldn’t help imagining just for a moment how satisfying it would be to see Jasper take her down in the ways she had done to Bella.. 

Jasper also proved an excellent teacher, both patient and encouraging as she worked on following his instructions through several maneuvers. She’d lost track of the time when Jasper called a halt to their training. “You need a break.”

“Why? I feel fine.” Was he disappointed in her progress? Her stomach twisted. Was he regretting volunteering to train her? She hadn’t realized until that moment how comforting it was to have her new brother here with her, knowing he was looking out for her as best he could under the circumstances. It was something she and Edward had hoped for. Was she to lose Jasper’s support already?

That small smile appeared again as his gift allowed him to read her concern. “You’re doing fine, Bella.” Jasper straightened his shirt. “But even vampire minds need time to absorb what they learn. I’d also like to recommend something else that might be helpful for you.” She waited eagerly for his suggestion but was surprised when he voiced it. 

“Reading is always good,” Jasper said matter-of-factly, almost casually. “You could use some strategic knowledge. I doubt war theory made it into your GED studies, and I suspect the time after your change was spent on more. . . gratifyin’ activities.” 

Her chuckle sounded embarrassed, even to herself. Thank God she could no longer blush. “Yes, battle strategy was not . . . high on the list.” She ignored Jasper’s brief smirk. “But I’m not sure I—um, anything you’d recommend?”

“I left some books with the librarians for the next time you come into the library. It’s probably on one of the lower levels.”

She thought of the brief times she’d seen Erastus and Marcus the Lesser since her return. Then she thought of the lower levels, where sound was undetectable and one’s activities might be safe from discovery by other vampire ears.

“Got it.” Was there something more to this than just reading?

She didn’t get a chance to ask as Jasper waved in farewell and then turned and left. 

Alone, her thoughts automatically and not so happily turned to Edward. He was, in every sense, the natural direction of all her thoughts, and he was also in danger. But her message had been sent. He’d replied that it had been received. Their communication had ended there. Tomorrow, he and the rest of the Cullens, hopefully assisted by the wolves, would be facing Victoria and her newborn recruits while Bella and two of their most talented family members were trapped here in Volterra, unable to help.

_ There isn’t anything else you can do _ , she told herself.  _ Except play your part, learn all you can, and watch for opportunities to get out of here. _

To that end, she turned and left the room, making her way to the library.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	55. A swarming murmuration

A/N for 2020-01-23: The word murmuration refers to a group of starlings - and no, I’d never heard it before I looked it up as an alternative to flock :-)

As always, my many thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their work on this story.

Erin

* * *

Edward didn’t know the precise time that Victoria and her army would attack, but he knew it would be today. To that end, he and Carlisle had chosen to assemble everyone two days early at the location Alice had foreseen in order to explore its possibilities and to strategize their defense. While it was no inconvenience for the few Cullens to stay near the meadow for hours, or even days on end, it was more difficult for the wolves. They needed sleep and water and food, and even though Jacob had insisted they could make do in their wolf iterations, Edward was keenly aware that this was not a universally held feeling. In addition, he was the only one who could communicate fully with them in their shifted forms, and he had neither the time nor the patience to serve as translator between them and his family when he already felt pulled in so many directions at once.

It was Emmett who had helpfully suggested finally making use of all the camping gear the Cullens had amassed over the years, setting up tents, coolers, and cookers for the Quileutes to use. Though well intentioned, the gesture was also not entirely well received. The younger wolves were more tractable, the older ones less so.

Leah, the only female member of the pack, frequently decorated her silent and Cullen-related phrasing with colourful obscenities. 

Edward did not mind, largely because he didn’t really care.

It felt as if half of him had been wrenched away at the dark runway where he’d parted from Bella just under a week ago, and it was a sensation he’d promised himself to never have to endure again. Bella was as eternal as he was now, and yet here they were, separated again. Not that he had a functional heart, but if he did have one, it would have missed half its beats, its supporting anatomy half a world away.

He would be whole again, he told himself, and so would his family. He promised himself this. He promised Bella this as well as he waited in the shade at his appointed station. She was strong, he reminded himself, and she would have allies in Alice and Jasper, as much as they could be allies in that poisonous place. He had taught her as much as he could in the short time he’d had, provided her with every scrap of knowledge he had gleaned from the minds of the Volturi members, and they had discussed ways to prepare for as many contingencies as he could imagine. Although his worst fear had been confirmed by the message she had sent, he had felt little surprise. Her coded words had been enough to calm him for the present, knowing that she was not in immediate danger. Now all that remained was to have faith—in her and in himself. Bella was not the defenseless human girl she had been when she’d last been in Volterra. She wasn’t alone either, he reminded himself again. Besides her family members, she had some friends there, if she was able to connect with them.

They would all find a way to extricate themselves from the nest of Volturi business. This was a certainty.

Now he just had to find a way to eliminate the complication that Victoria had become from their present circumstances. It was the morning of day two, and the wolves’ tempers were growing short. His kind could seemingly wait forever, frozen in stillness if necessary, but for the Quileutes, the waiting was a struggle. At least, he consoled himself, their impatience was silent to all but him. They maintained an outward display of calm. They didn’t think it would do to look testy to their allies.

 _Reluctant allies, but allies nonetheless,_ Edward thought. Although Jacob’s loyalty could not be stronger, this feeling seemed thinly spread amongst his packmates. They stayed because not to do so would endanger the lives of all human inhabitants nearby. Even so, the pack bonds were clearly strained. Edward could hear in Jacob’s thoughts that it was particularly difficult for him to obey Sam’s orders. Despite his young age, Jacob’s birthright was showing. 

The meadow was unique for several reasons: it was remote and unobservable by humans from the ground or air. It was also one of a very few breaks in the trees in a thick band of greenery that stretched from west to east along the peninsula. No roads traversed the direct path, and no airplanes flew overhead. This was a natural travelling path for a band of skittish newborn vampires led by a clever strategist. It was also highly defensible, a feature for which Edward gave silent thanks again. The numbers that Bella had relayed through Chelsea were startling: an army of twenty newborns, give or take, and Victoria controlling them all. 

Each of the Cullens and the wolves was located at a precise point now, every one chosen for sightline, cover, and height. They’d surveyed the area carefully, grateful for the rain that had washed away their tracks and scents before they finally set up camp. With the prevailing winds in their favour, they would have the advantage of surprise.

 _This will work_ , Edward told himself. _It must._

A twig snapped.

Positioned at the head of the natural bend that funneled into the meadow, Edward became a statue, intent on listening with all his senses. Nothing yet.

Further away, a wind-rattled leaf brushed against a piece of fabric. Beyond that unmeasured point, a flock of starlings swept into the air, their swarming murmuration undulating in a low swirling pattern and then shattering briefly.

Unfamiliar and violent thoughts assailed Edward next. He lifted his hand high above his head, signalling Emmett behind him, who would raise the next signal, and the next person, the next.

Twelve wolves and five vampires. This against twenty newborns and Victoria. God knew what else was coming their way.

He’d never wanted Jasper at his side more. 

\- 0 -

The stack of books that Jasper had assembled for Bella was, well, tall. Imposing. She knew her mind was up to the challenge, but gosh . . . her human insecurities flared up quickly. Would she be able to _use_ all that information as Jasper expected?

“May I suggest another text as well?” Marcus the Lesser stood a respectful distance away.

She wondered, not for the first time, about the scope of knowledge that Marcus must possess—that all the librarians must possess. Given her own ability to read at previously incomprehensible speeds, she could only imagine the centuries of accumulated knowledge and wisdom housed in the brains of Marcus and his compatriots.

“Yes, please.” The rest of the Volturi guard might condescend to Marcus and his other colleagues, but she would not make that mistake.

It was a slender book that he quietly placed on the table beside her, slipping away before she had a chance to make eye contact.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

If Marcus replied, she missed the silent gesture, the swish of his robe already lost with others in the stacks around her. She’d chosen to read where Jasper had left the books, at the penultimate level of the library, where the sounds of the training room, as Erastus had referred to it, did not easily reach her.

“God,” she muttered to herself. Some things were better left unknown.

She had already skimmed through two of the books Jasper had left. And goodness, if the man didn’t pick some of the driest material ever. It was informative, she supposed, but if she had retained the capacity to sleep, the books would have easily ensured her slumber.

The slim volume to her left was bound in fine leather and appeared to be very, very old. The smell of the text only confirmed what her sight had surmised. There were hints of oak and iron in the ink, and the paper was not paper, but parchment. Exceptionally old.

Turning the cover gently, Bella read the title: _Annals_. Below this in tidy script was what she presumed was a name: Didyme. She flipped further, dates and notes in . . . Italian? She tilted her head sideways, as if this would untangle some of the unfamiliar words. Etruscan perhaps? 

Bella’s gaze swept the space around her and she realized that she was alone on the library level. Why had Marcus given her this? It appeared to be a historical record and probably had nothing to do with war, battle strategy, or any of the other topics related to the readings Jasper had given her.

Lips still turned downwards, Bella looked again at the page, knitting together the phrases she knew and her best guesses at the ones she didn’t into a rough understanding of the words before her: “I, Didyme, set down my record of the Volturi succession and the routing of the Croats.”

 _Didyme?_ The name was vaguely familiar. _And who the heck were the Croats?_

She kept reading. The terse prose was rich with information. The bare facts of the Volturi’s violent history were laid out for Bella to read. How they’d battled the Croats—whoever they were—and how they’d infiltrated the castle.

The building was much older than Bella had ever suspected. Her prior wanderings in the city had exposed her to the regular tourist guff which gave the city’s originating date as the 8th century. This text was older by at least one century, and it recalled events even farther back. 

If the record before her was accurate, and Bella did not doubt that it was, the Volturi had taken the castle from the vampires that had ruled before them, coming through not the sewers, but something called hypocaust chambers that ran beneath the lowest floors. She checked the word again. No, she hadn’t misread it. She racked her brain, trying to remember what she’d learned about Roman architecture. Weren’t those tunnels heated with bonfires or something? Visions of flaming vampires emerging from the floors didn’t add up. There was no way she was reading this correctly. But maybe the hypocaust chambers had not been lit? She frowned, trying to puzzle out more of the words.

A short trip to the closest computer confirmed her views. No. The chambers were fitted with hot air pipes then—not firepits. Huh. Apparently, the former vampire inhabitants had made use of the most sophisticated of human building techniques. Interesting.

Didyme had left a helpful, hand-drawn map noting the location of these subterranean passages. In her mind, Bella connected what was in front of her with what Edward had shown her in the diagrams he had drawn for her to memorize.

The terse notes went on, spanning several decades in concise and increasingly detailed notes. Didyme had been Marcus’ mate, she now remembered Edward telling her. But what had happened to her? She hadn’t asked Edward. Frowning, she recalled what he had told her about each of the guard and the Volturi leaders. He hadn’t said anything about the fate of Marcus’s mate—beyond the fact that she was long dead.

The records stopped abruptly, an entry noting the discussion of new measures for investigating the existence of an uncontrolled and immortal child—whatever that was—and then nothing.

“What happened to you?” she wondered aloud. She listened to the words echo gently back to her, bouncing off the stone walls. Closing the book, she considered Marcus the Lesser’s strange addition to Jasper’s collection of texts. She trusted Marcus, though, and if he felt this text had something to offer her, she would not discount his opinion. 

\- 0 -

Edward yanked off the newborn’s arm before the hand on its end could do more damage to Seth. The creature hissed, but with its hold broken, it turned to launch itself at Edward. It never got the chance, Seth’s teeth crunching closed around its neck, the head neatly spat out on the grass.

Flicking on the lighter as soon as it was free of his pocket, Edward dropped the flame and fuel onto the creature’s head, pushing the remainder of the corpse on top of it. He only caught the next brief thought, followed by a flicker of movement as it was nearly on him, Seth shoving the next newborn—a woman—out of his way.

Edward scanned the field for more adversaries, taking in the battles each of his family members and their wolf allies were engaged in. Scattered, smoldering piles throughout the field were evidence of the strength of their coalition with the wolves, and all were holding their own. As Seth pinned the newest assailant, Edward twisted off the head, trying not to flinch as long brunette hair was caught by the breeze.

 _She’s fine_ , he told himself. She would continue to be fine. Any other outcome was unacceptable. 

The whoosh of flames and smoke obscured his vision slightly, and he jumped out of its path, looking to see what other attackers were coming his way.

There weren’t any. 

_They’re running!_ Edward heard the thought in Seth’s head.

“I know,” he told him. He strained his mind, trying to catch with his gift the jumbled thoughts of the fleeing vampires. 

Edward ran, too.

“At least five are heading west,” he said over his shoulder to Carlisle. They were just over a half mile from the main field of battle now, and the wolves had remained behind, as agreed. 

“Don’t follow them!” Carlisle called back, yanking at a male vampire’s hair, pulling him off of Esme and efficiently decapitating him while she dealt with the second of the two newborns who had teamed up on her.

As he indexed the faces in the minds of his family and allies, Edward knew that the one he wanted to see dead had not made her presence known. He caught the briefest flash of Victoria’s mind before the impression was gone again. “She’s with them,” he said, not continuing on but turning back towards the battlefield, conscious of where he was and striving to stay out of reach of the wolves’ influence on Alice’s vision. She needed to see this.

“If we go after her, we could be running into a trap,” Carlisle replied. His words were urgent, but his tone was not. He directed his next thought silently to Edward. _Are we far enough away?_

“If we _don’t_ go after her, we won’t get her.” Edward eyed Carlisle meaningfully, and the two of them nodded at each other. Of course, Carlisle was right. It could be a trap, and without Alice, there was no way but the riskiest to know. Edward wondered how much of all this Alice was seeing, but he did not wonder that she _was_ seeing it. Aro would want to know what the outcome of his brutal bargain was. Edward planned to oblige him.

The handful of Victoria’s cohorts that remained were fighting their most desperate battles. Visibly outnumbered, their panic was palpable, and the scent of their odiferous venom filled the air as they hissed and snarled. Their skirmishes were short though.

Carlisle had turned back suddenly and was trying to offer quarter to what looked to be a young girl. It wasn’t going well—Edward could hear nothing but incoherence and rabid fear from her—and when she turned to lunge at Esme, it was over.

The sickly stench of thick smoke was everywhere, clinging to their clothes, their hair, the trees. Any vampire that came near here would know what had happened for weeks to come. It would take months of rain to wash the smell from the trees.

Edward faced the treeline and made a show of watching for more attackers. His senses and gift told him there were none. The few living remnants of Victoria’s army were long gone to the east, the greater part of her force stuck to the trees as gritty ash. She would meet her end eventually but not today—and not at his hand.

No, he’d had his fill of Victoria. He was done playing her games. He was done playing anyone else’s game. He thought ruefully about the mess that Victoria might make in the nearby cities and towns and how much press such deaths had already attracted. The Cullens’ “failure” today would draw Aro’s attention—Edward would make sure of it. And then he smiled to himself, knowing who would be dispatched to finish the job. Yes, he was done with Victoria. It was the Volturi’s turn to deal with her.

And it was his turn to deal with the Volturi.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	56. What if

Posted 2020-01-31 with gratitude to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for all their hard work as betas on this story.

* * *

"Nothing works on her," Jane mumbled, folding her arms and scowling. "If she _can_ do anything useful, she needs . . . incentive." The scowl remained.

Bella stayed still, keeping her gaze locked on Jane. She didn't trust the small woman or her brother, who sat beside her.

"It's unfortunate Aro won't let you use Alice or Jasper," Alec said, a note of wistfulness to his voice.

Even the suggestion made Bella's shoulders tighten. _They wouldn't, would they_?

The other guard members had left so that only Jane and her brother remained. One by one, the grey-clad figures had attempted to elicit Bella's gift with their attacks and attributes. It seemed that Bella's only talent was being unaffected by all but the most innocuous of their talents. Her physical strength as a newborn allowed her to defend herself, but beyond that, she was just an average vampire. The idea made her very, very nervous. She would become vulnerable after her initial strength waned, and while Edward had assured her they would find a way to get her and Alice and Jasper away from the Volturi, each day felt like another proverbial nail in the coffin of her servitude.

And she still hadn't heard from Edward. She darted away from the thought, listening to Jane and Alec whisper to each other. Their lowered voices and hushed tones implied an intimacy that made her even more uncomfortable. They looked more like lovers than siblings.

Eww.

"You can go," Jane said, not even bothering to look at Bella.

Bella didn't ask if Jane was sure.

It was instinctual to head to the library. It was the safest place to which she had access. At least there she felt like she could breathe freely. Still forbidden to go outside, she roamed the castle almost incessantly, familiarizing herself with its many previously unexplored nooks and crannies and cataloguing them in her mind. It was not difficult to appear restless as she did so, given that she was prohibited from wandering outdoors. And newborns were restless by nature, weren't they? Yes, she was fairly sure her behavior would not raise any undue suspicion.

Once Bella passed the third level of the library, she sighed in relief. She was free to speak her mind here, and while it was a small piece of privacy, it was a great weight lifted from her mind.

"My lady," Erastus murmured quietly, approaching from behind one of the shelves.

"Hi, Erastus." She smiled. It was good to see a familiar and friendly face.

"Will you come?" He waved his hand towards a laptop on one of the tables.

"Sure." Her curiosity piqued, she wondered if there was a new addition to the collection.

"I noticed an annotation on your account, perhaps related to a favourite book?"

Bella almost gasped in excitement, speeding over the last few steps. She had to remind herself to slow down and be careful when she finally reached the fragile laptop. If there was an annotation on her file, it meant—

"Oh, thank God." Her voice sounded so loud in the stony space.

A few steps away, Erastus smiled a very small but genuine smile. Bella met his gaze, knowing she'd be crying if she could. In that brief moment of connection, she realized that in being so free with her reaction, she'd trusted him with far more than she could guarantee was wise. She looked back at the screen, suddenly nervous.

"It must be a very exciting book," Erastus said softly. "It's good to see someone so enthusiastic about the collection."

As Bella met his gaze again, she watched him smile evenly and then nod at her, turning and walking away.

If that wasn't Lower Order code for "I've got your back," she didn't know what was. Well, thank God for that and for the news in front of her.

On the screen and under the title, _The Fannie Farmer Cookbook_ , sat a few lines of text in the annotation section: _More than half a cow butchered, as per recipe. Butchers coordinated effort, satisfied with outcome. Head of cow, and five neck bones left to make soup at a later date._

Edward was safe. Their family was safe. The wolves were safe. They were all safe. She repeated these words in her mind over and over. But all was not well. Victoria remained at large with some of her minions, too. Tapping at the keyboard, Bella deleted the text Edward had left, considering what she would type in reply. She had to be so careful with this. Her perception of time, already so unreliable for her as a vampire, slipped away in greater amounts than she realized as Jane's voice made her look up.

"You have more work to do. Let's go."

"Sure," Bella said, closing her library account page and clicking on a new search to hide her work. She'd have to reply later.

As Bella stepped into the training space, just a few paces behind Jane, she stopped and stared. Erastus was in front of her, his arms held by Felix and Demetri as they stood on either side of him.

Her first thought was that Jane had heard something that could incriminate her. When Bella had been in the library, there was a chance a tiny bit of sound could have travelled up the stairs. Had it been her exclamation? Erastus's reaction?

Felix and Demetri began leveraging their respective grips on Erastus's arms, and Bella's eyes widened as she understood the significance of their stance.

Erastus made no sound as his arms were detached from his body, but Bella did. "NO!"

"Told you," Jane said to no one in particular as she smiled. She stood with her arms crossed, her habitual and nasty smirk making her lips quirk upward.

Demetri and Felix spat venom on the ends of Erastus's arms and then jammed them back into place. Erastus winced as the tissues knitted themselves back together. Although she'd never experienced it herself, Bella knew dismemberment was extraordinarily painful. Edward had apprised her of this and that the members of the Lower Order had been trained to withstand it by virtue of practice. But to do this in front of her for no good reason—

"I think you can do more than you're showing us, Bella," Jane said. "And I think, for whatever reason, you actually like these creatures." Her lips twisted with distaste. "So we'll keep going until I see some progress."

Some stupid part of her felt relief; this wasn't about what had happened in the library, but the feeling was fleeting. They were hell-bent on making her do something she had no idea how to do. "But I can't; I don't—"

She watched Erastus tremble and his face twitch as Felix and Demetri took up their places beside him again.

"Then you'd better try," Jane said.

She’d forgotten that she didn’t need to breathe until she felt air moving through her lungs in a way her body remembered it needed to do when panicked or angry as a human.  She was angry now. She became aware of a bubbling sensation within her that felt surprisingly familiar. Her fuzzy human memories associated it with vague recollections of her withdrawal. The feeling was startling, as if something were lifting from within her skin. There was no effect that she could see on anything around her though, and another shrieking snap echoed through the room as Erastus's arms were removed just as expeditiously as they'd been before.

"Stop!" she called out.

"Perhaps we will," Jane said, frowning briefly as she studied Bella for a moment. Then her lips curved upward again in a wicked smile. "Let him go."

Demetri and Felix stepped away quickly, and Jane tipped her head slightly to the left in what Bella recognized as the precursor to Jane's using her gift.

"Please, he hasn't—!"

Erastus's screaming reverberated through the room, and Bella's sense of helplessness grew with it.

"Please, Jane—!"

"Do something!" Jane's voice was shrill with frustration.

Bella did, leaping towards Jane and trying to knock her over. It was a clumsy maneuver, and Jane only rolled with the movement, kicking Bella into the wall as she stood. Erastus's high-pitched screams of agony continued unabated as he dropped to his knees.

"I can do this for days, but he won't be much use to anyone after that, so I suggest you do something else." Jane sounded both mocking and amused as she continued to employ her gift, smiling the whole time.

It enraged Bella to see, and the bubbling returned, blistering along her body as if her anger was lifting some second skin. Instinctively she stepped towards Erastus, kneeling on the floor beside him and cradling his head in her hands. His screaming stopped.

Startled, she stared at him, and he stared back, his eyes wide with shock.

"Interesting," Jane said, but her tone suggested something else.

"Are you—?" Demetri asked.

"Yes," Jane snapped. She tilted her head to a greater degree, her smile gone.

Bella watched her warily. The bubbling in her skin had stopped for now, but it was as if something hovered above her body, tingling in its place as she kept her hands on either side of Erastus's face. A sense of panic swept over her, and the sensation began to fade. Jane was still using her power on him. What if she couldn't—?

Just as she'd feared, Erastus's screaming began again. He wobbled back and forth on his knees, struggling for balance as she steadied him in her arms, his own detached limbs twitching on the floor beside him. Bella tried to renew her feelings of rage and anger, but all that came to her was panic and guilt. Horrified by what was happening right before her, she made the mistake of looking away, only to find Demetri's gaze locked on her.

Like a car barreling headlong into her, the memory of what he'd done smashed into her consciousness again. There was no reaching for rage. She _was_ rage. She growled at Demetri and Felix and Jane, and only a very small part of her registered the silence that had taken the place of Erastus's screams

Jane's focused posture broke, and she laughed so explosively, the force of it caused her to fold herself almost in half. "Well, it seems all we need is you around, Demetri. Apparently, you're enough to trigger her gift all on your own. Aro will be delighted to hear it."

Bella let go of Erastus and snarled at the other vampires, her lips curling back as she hissed and crouched.

"My lady," Erastus whispered, his voice almost hoarse. He looked horrified by her display of animosity.

Jane stepped towards Erastus and pushed his arms back onto him. The sight snapped Bella back to herself, and she eyed Erastus closely. Vampires could not tire, but she could read the stress in his features as surely as in any human face. Perhaps the Lower Order could fatigue? When he saw her watching him, Erastus turned his face away from her as if he couldn't bear her scrutiny, almost as if he were ashamed. Her heart ached for him.

"We're done," Bella said. She eyed the other vampires darkly. When she addressed Erastus, it was much more gently. "I'll walk you back to the library."

Jane's voice had the same effect as nails on a chalkboard to Bella, sending the sensation of a chill up her spine as she heard the words. "Aro will be very pleased to know that we've uncovered your gift. Be prepared to demonstrate it for him this evening."

 _Screw you,_ Bella thought _._

But she said nothing in return, only waiting on Erastus, who had stood up without assistance, quickly resuming his usual demure posture.

Marcus the Lesser was in the reading room when they entered the library. It was unusual for him to be there, and Bella couldn't help but wonder if he'd heard or had already surmised what had transpired.

Her question was answered almost immediately. "Dominic will tend to you," Marcus said softly to Erastus.

Erastus nodded to him and then Bella, who frowned as he walked slowly away. She moved to follow, but Marcus put out a hand.

"It is best if he has a few minutes to regroup."

"Of course," she said.

Marcus smiled weakly at her. "I would never address any of the other guard members so, or if I did, it would be the last thing I said before I was punished."

The Volturi were harsh. She didn't doubt what Marcus said.

"You do so much for them, and they treat you like you're nothing to them." She almost winced, hearing the bitterness in her own voice. "You're not lesser, no matter what they call you."

She watched Marcus's sad smile flicker again. He turned his gaze towards the stairs and then back to her, inviting her to follow. Bella did.

When they'd reached the third level, Marcus spoke again. "There is great wisdom in knowing one's place in the world."

Marcus was not one given to platitudes, subservient or otherwise, and Bella eyed him quizzically. She wasn't sure he would understand the phrase "That's a pile of horseshit," so she chose not to voice it. They walked at a slow and even pace, Marcus stopping occasionally to move a book or straighten a chair while Bella struggled to find the words she needed to move the conversation in a slightly different direction.

From the lower levels of the library, she could hear the murmuring of quiet voices. One was definitely Erastus's, but she couldn't identify the other.

"I think we've given them enough time," Marcus said softly as they walked down more stairs and approached the unassuming side door that led to the little break room.

Inside, Erastus sat in one of the ancient upholstered chairs, his hands wrapped around a cup of hot water at which he was staring. He looked up as they entered.

"Thank you, Dominic," Marcus said softly.

The shorter vampire nodded and turned to leave, closing the door softly behind him.

"You are yourself, Erastus?"

Bella could listen to Marcus's voice all day. It was low and gentle, the kind of voice that made one want to hear what he had to say. She couldn't help but compare him to the vampires around him—his gentle attentiveness stood out sharply against the indifferent cruelty of the guard and its leadership. Aro could learn a great deal from him—not that Aro ever would. She'd seen enough to know how rigid their kind were by nature.

"Yes," Erastus said. Unlike Marcus, his voice sounded hollow. His gaze flickered to Bella for a brief moment before he returned his attention to the cup in his hands. "I thank you for your help earlier, my lady."

His words had been murmured so quietly that Bella almost missed them, but she also had no idea how to respond. How could she accept his gratitude when she had, however inadvertently, been the reason for his suffering?

Bella thought she knew what Erastus might be going through. The members of the Lower Order had dealt with such atrocities for so long, the concept was nearly unfathomable to her. Still, she certainly understood feeling powerless and the sense of shame that might accompany that condition. It amazed her that these men continued to be the gentle creatures that they were in her presence. She thought again of the torture Erastus had suffered at Jane's hand and wished that her ability had manifested in time to prevent it instead of merely curtail it. He was probably still reliving the experience, she realized as she watched him. She wondered if anything she could say or do at this moment would be helpful in distracting him from whatever negative emotions he was feeling.

"I have matters I must attend to," Marcus said, straightening slightly, "but, Erastus, I leave you in good hands."

Bella gave him an incredulous look, abruptly unnerved. He was leaving _her_ with Erastus?

Marcus nodded towards her, smiling a little.

What the heck was she going to say to Erastus?

And then they were alone.

"Um . . . " Bella began, then faltered. She scrambled for something to talk to him about, latching onto the first thing that came into her head. "You said you knew Emily Dickinson?"

To her great surprise, Erastus began to laugh.

She stared as he chuckled, opening his eyes and putting his cup down on the table beside him. He stared at the wall in front of him. "Marcus was right, then, but Marcus is almost always right." The laughter faltered.

"Why is Marcus almost always right?"

He inhaled and exhaled slowly. It seemed very human of him, and if she understood his relative age, she knew that his humanity was a very long time gone. But the Lower Order always had seemed more human to her than the other Volturi.

"She was . . . I loved her."

Bella's eyes widened.

Erastus chuckled again. "To answer your question, Marcus was as hopeful as I was. And hope, as I think you know, can be a very foolish thing."

It was awful to hear these words, and every part of her rallied against them. "No. You're wrong. Hope is essential."

"You are so young."

"And you're unbelievably jaded if you really believe that hope is a product of my youth." She narrowed her eyes. "I don't think you really believe that, and I don't want to be lied to by you."

Erastus nodded a little. "We all must have some hope, yes. This is true. We must hope for food and small joys and for the absence of frequent cruelty."

The absence of frequent cruelty. How awful.

She wished it was Marcus here with her, for her next suggestion was ultimately meant for his ears. "What if you never had to worry about cruelty again?"

"You mean, in death?" He spoke so genuinely, it was heartbreaking. It also threw off her purpose entirely.

"I mean, what if"—she stammered, and then her courage failed. "Never mind." She couldn't mess this up. It had to be right. And it wasn't right, not yet.

Erastus eyed her still, his head tilting slightly, the hope that had begun to bloom there now wilting in his gaze. "As you wish, my lady." He stood, and Bella understood that she was, for all his politeness, dismissed from his presence. She stood as well, her mind fraught with frustration and uncertainty, turning and walking away in search of the laptop she'd been using earlier. She needed to take advantage of this moment alone and reply to Edward's last message quickly. She wished she could have continued her conversation with Marcus, but knowing she could be called to the throne room at any moment to demonstrate her talent, she would have to find another opportunity—and it needed to be soon. She was running out of time.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	57. Eight hundred and thirty three

A/N for 7/02/2021: It is a gloriously sunny day here in Vancouver, B.C., and boy is it welcome after a very dark and wet winter. 

I can't give enough credit to the betas for this story, Chayasara and Eeyorefan12. They take my rough work and make it So. Much. Better. My heartfelt thanks to them.

Just three or four chapters to go, so I hope you enjoy the last part of this tale.

\- Erin

* * *

Bella avoided the throne room whenever possible, but a summons from Aro was not to be refused. As she walked, she counted her steps. There were eight hundred and thirty-three of them between her quarters and the large circular room where the Volturi leaders seemed to spend most of their time.

She was squeamish thinking of the last time Aro had requested her presence. She'd felt anxious walking towards the throne room then, just as she did now. When she'd arrived, Marcus the Lesser had been standing in the centre of the room, his hands folded in front of him.

"It seems your gift is intriguing enough to inspire volunteers, Bella," Aro had said evenly.

Bella's gaze had flicked towards Marcus the Lesser and then back to Aro. Given Marcus's calm demeanour, she had strongly suspected that he had volunteered to spare Erastus. In that moment, she had hoped that the trust she'd read in his eyes was not grossly misplaced.

"You may begin, Jane." Aro had sounded excited.

_Six hundred and fifty-five . . ._

Bella continued to walk and count, trying not to think of what Marcus had sounded like when he'd screamed. She had panicked when he needed her, and it had taken what felt like interminable minutes to produce the bubbling sensations in her arms.

Worse, it hadn't been until she'd seen Demetri leering at her that she had managed to employ her paltry gift.

For it _was_ paltry if it couldn't be summoned without him to inspire it.

She kept walking. _Six hundred and seventy-two . . ._

Still, she _had_ summoned it—enough at least to protect Marcus from further torture. Now that she'd shown her gift to Aro, she knew that her probationary period would soon come to an end. While the idea of being part of the Volturi guard for any length of time was repellent, being a full-fledged member would have some advantages. It would give her freedom to leave the castle and then to continue to seek permanent ways of leaving in general. Of course, it also meant that she could be sent to do the Volturi's bidding. The idea had made her shudder when it had occurred to her, but she'd reminded herself that Edward had spent time as a reluctant member of the guard without losing his sense of self. Even more encouraging was the knowledge that Edward's father had lived here with Aro and the guard for decades. Not only had Carlisle remained the kind and caring man she knew him to be, but he'd become a legendary figure during his time here for both his renunciation of human blood and his extraordinary compassion.

She paused briefly to collect and then lecture to herself. _They won't make you a monster,_ she promised herself. _You will remember who you are, whom you have chosen to be._

With a sigh, she began walking again.

_Seven hundred and twenty-two, seven hundred and twenty-three . . ._

In her modest list of good things, Bella gave thanks for the ability to control herself—at least so far. She had also avoided the communal "meal" to which she'd been invited. Her polite refusal had not been challenged. Neither, apparently, had Alice or Jasper's. She assumed from the distance that they kept from her that they'd been ordered not to engage with her beyond her two brief trainings with Jasper. The most interaction she'd had with Alice was a sad and silent lifting of her hand as they'd passed in the hallway outside the throne room.

Bella hadn't been out of the castle since her arrival over a week ago, but as a newborn, she still needed to hunt frequently. To the great amusement of the rest of the guard, Aro had arranged for the delivery of live deer to the enclosed and underground parking garage. It was at least large enough for the animal to run and for Bella to partially satisfy her urge to stalk her prey. She'd loathed every minute of it and could appreciate exactly why Edward had avoided deer since leaving Italy. Still, the thought of hurting a person she'd once known or bought food or flowers from was horrifying enough to keep her from being tempted by the many human smells that swirled around her even inside the castle. She would stomach the guard's laughter and jeers over her "hunts" in the garage along with the adrenaline-tainted blood of the terrified creatures from which she drank. It helped her to recall Edward's quiet dignity as he'd been made to do the same in the throne room, not only in front of her when she was human but in front of an audience of peers whose thoughts would surely have taunted him.

She was almost at the throne room now. _Seven hundred and forty-eight . . ._

 _At least Jasper and Alice are allowed to go hunt properly—_ not that they were allowed much other freedom. Aro kept them apart most of the time, not, it seemed, out of deliberate cruelty, but because he wanted to see every image that Alice did, and Jasper's presence was most likely distracting. Bella thought it must be infinitely fascinating for Aro to have access to Alice's unique talent—he probably saw her as a shiny new toy. Not that his intentions really mattered when the outcome was just as abominable. So far, though, Alice didn't appear to have alerted Aro to anything she might have seen in Bella's future—if Alice could still see her future. Bella and Edward had assumed that Alice would be able to. Given the plans they'd made prior to Bella's departure for Italy, she knew Edward would be focusing on the idea of remaining in Washington or occasionally letting the idea of joining her in Volterra cross his mind in order to avoid making a firm decision. He had the added advantage of Jake's cooperation in keeping any other ideas or events obscured when necessary. Bella was far less practiced at marshalling her thoughts to run in only one direction, particularly with her more easily distracted "newborn" brain, but she worked to think only of a lifetime serving the Volturi, no matter how personally revolting the idea.

_Eight hundred and thirty-three._

Her arrival in the throne room was not remarked upon by any of the other vampires present.

The usual business was being attended to. Jane's gift, Bella had realized, was entirely reflective of her personality. She liked to watch people being tortured, and she found the most satisfaction in punishing her personal attendant, a disheartened-looking member of the Lower Order. Bella did not have to think too hard to know why he was so dispirited.

Bella looked away as the grisly punishment was carried out, trying not to listen to the lick of venom applied to the severed limbs. She remembered watching Edward as he'd been forced to carry out one of these disciplinary actions and the blank expression on his face when he'd done so. Knowing his true heart as she did, she could only imagine the strength of will it had required for him to take part in such cruelty while keeping that careful mask in place. She quickly forced her thoughts in another direction before the sudden flood of loneliness and longing for her mate could engulf her.

"To more pressing business, then," Aro said.

Bella could feel a slight flicker in the guard's movements and realized that she'd sensed this type of energy and excitement in them before. A mission. They were being sent somewhere. She looked towards the front of the room again, seeing that Aro's hand was uncommonly free of Alice's.

"Bella."

She met Aro's gaze. He smiled his disingenuous smile.

"Your family was able to dispense with most of Victoria's associates but unfortunately not all of them. Victoria herself escaped them, and she, along with her remaining neophytes, have made quite a mess—where was it, Alice?—Ah, yes, in Forks. It seems the population of the little town has been somewhat . . . diminished." He laughed.

Bella's gut tightened. First, Charlie's face and then Angela's and those of her other friends raced through her thoughts. Second, she thought of her immortal family. If they had failed in destroying Victoria, would the Volturi interpret this as a failure warranting punishment? She didn't trust Aro an inch, and if he was talking about this in front of the entire guard, it bode ill for the people she loved.

"So it seems fitting that we should dispatch the guard to deal with this trouble, hmm?"

And what trouble would that be? Victoria? Bella's family? Edward?

But there was a slight flicker of hope, as well. Maybe Aro would send her, too? She could warn everyone or help them when she got there— _or be witness to their deaths_ , part of her mind thought. _No!_ She would not fall into such morbid speculation. She needed to think rationally.

"Jane, Alec, Demetri and Felix—you should be well equipped to discreetly manage this. And Bella . . ." He paused for a moment. "I think you should remain."

He might as well have kicked her in the stomach. Emotions she needed to hide played briefly over her face before she could muster control over her features. Aro read them easily.

"It is quite clear that your attachments here need strengthening, still. It would be foolish to send you on such an errand before your fealty has been appropriately established. Should it become necessary, it would be . . . _cruel_ to test your loyalty to us against your own _mate_." He turned to Demetri. "Do give our regards to the Cullens for their admirable efforts, however inadequate." He smiled, the expression as sly and mendacious as always.

She heard the rest of Aro's speech, and while it registered in her mind, the words he'd just directed at her chilled her to the bone, sluicing over her thoughts like ice-water. She needed to warn her family of the guard's arrival. They'd anticipated having to deal with Victoria at some point, but not in conjunction with the guard—and certainly not in Forks.

Once the guard had been dismissed, Bella left the throne room, her mind spinning with worry. She needed to get to the library and its catalogue system. It was her only way of sending word unless . . . unless one of the Lower Order would send a message on her behalf? Marcus the Lesser still left most days to engage in business for the Volturi, but it would endanger him if he helped her. Or it could endanger her if he told anyone. She trusted him, but she wasn't sure to what extent that trust would hold.

Bella calculated that it would take the guard roughly eighteen hours to get to Forks. Every moment counted. Still, she forced herself to walk in a slow and stately manner to the library. She felt paranoid, and her heightened senses seemed to distort the world around her. She had to warn the Cullens. The sandstone walls and wooden doors appeared warped as she passed by them, and it was only after a few moments of purposefully slow walking that she realized she was using her gift. If others experienced the visual distortion she did with her power, they hadn't said anything, but it was an alarming feature for Bella—the optic warping was small but enough to let her know how far the protection extended. She tested it now as she walked into the reading room, making the books on the highest shelves shimmer. Then the distortion disappeared. She'd pushed the protection beyond the walls. How far could she extend it? She would need to test it outside—if they would let her outside.

But enough. She kept walking at an even pace, not letting her growing sense of panic alter her outward appearance. When she reached the fourth level down, she stopped at the first workstation and began typing, calling up her account and finding the entry that Edward had used before.

 _Please be watching this. Please, please, please,_ she prayed as she keyed in the words: _Eight chefs expected to clean up leftovers._ She began to add a footnote in which she wrote in only the initials of the members who'd been dispatched by Aro.

She stared at the screen and her half-finished text. If one of the Volturi guard—or worse, Aro, Caius, or Marcus—happened upon this note, what would they think of it? Not that there was much chance of them looking, was there?

Or was this some sort of test? Aro had suggested her loyalty was yet unproven. Did they already know that she had warned her family beyond what had been sanctioned? Edward had said that Aro ignored the Lower Order and their thoughts and that the library was of little interest to him, but what if that had changed in the intervening time? Then she shook her head. Aro was as unlikely to change as she was to take up golf, given their vampiric natures. In this same vein, he was unlikely to ask Alice to look at the Lower Order's futures either.

A set of footsteps she was not accustomed to hearing in the library made her stiffen in fear.

"The Rinaldi, of course." Marcus the Lesser's voice had taken on that diminutive tone that marked his interactions with members of the upper strata. There was an extra layer of deference now. Listening intently, Bella recognized—yes—the Volturi leader Marcus's voice; his softly mumbled syllables and apathetic tone set him apart.

Hitting "send" before logging out of her account, Bella opened a search for battle strategy. Leaving the computer too quickly would only draw attention to her.

Watching the two vampires' slow approach in the screen's reflection, Bella noted how much like a ghost the ancient Marcus moved. Though he clearly transported himself on two feet, his stride was perfectly even, and it appeared as if he were floating rather than performing such a mortal maneuver as walking.

As she typed in yet another search for which she had no desire to see the results, Marcus stopped and stared in her direction. He tilted his head to the left, his normally inanimate gaze livening as he perused the material on Bella's screen. "You'd be better served by psychological texts." He spoke slowly and deliberately, more clearly than she'd heard before, not that she'd heard much from him and never outside of the throne room.

She met his reflected gaze in the computer screen, too nervous to turn and physically face him—she didn't trust that her paranoia wouldn't be revealed.

"If you want to defeat a foe, know what they want. No one has a greater weakness than that which they love." He sounded so sad as he stated this truth, one that she believed in now more than she ever had before.

Then he turned and moved in his original direction, leaving Bella to wonder at his words and finally sigh in relief, having not been discovered in her original mission.

Too wary of being caught, she left the workstation, moving to find the book she'd looked up. With this prop in hand, she went in search of Marcus the Lesser. She found him at the foot of the stairs to the fifth level still standing beside his master, whose eyes were on her again.

"Psychology, girl. Not strategy." The senior Marcus shook his head and then spoke to the man at his side. "You know my preferences. See that she has appropriate reading."

Marcus nodded in response, and his master glided away up the stairs. When the sound of the library door clicked shut, Bella turned to him. "Actually, before we get to that, I had a question about something I read."

It was a risk, asking him this, but in light of today's events, it was a risk she needed to take.

"Certainly," Marcus said.

She led him to the shelf where she'd kept the books Jasper had collected for her. "This one," she said, picking up Didyme's book. Flipping to the page in question, she pointed to the word "hypocaust." "Where are these?"

Something like a smile passed over Marcus's face. "Follow me, please."

She followed him to a large wrought iron grate that sat just inside the reading room. "This is one of the few that haven't been plastered over."

It didn't take much to imagine why they had been covered over. It was also hard to contain her eagerness at seeing this one intact.

"Why was this one left?" She tried to make the question sound casual.

"It serves for the telling of the story, at least to those initiated to this order." He spoke quietly. It was clearly a story of which he was not fond. "But now, I should get you a copy of the materials my master wished you to have."

This time his steps were less animated, and she reluctantly followed him to find the books Marcus had recommended. Then Marcus the Lesser excused himself, his near-silent footsteps disappearing into the lower levels of the library again. Bella skimmed through the books, not daring to ignore the content lest she be pressed on her conclusions. Her quick read done, she carried her armful of books back to the computer she'd used before. This time she made sure she was entirely alone before logging into the system again.

She almost crushed the book in her hand when she read Edward's reply from just moments before. _Additional chefs from up north have joined prep team in neutral kitchen. Seeking ingredients for development of new recipe._

Typing furtively, she sent a message of her own and then quickly closed her account. If her heart still beat, it would be racing. There was no going back now, she knew, and she prayed again that Edward was right with his plan—that all the pieces would come together. She had played the first of her small parts, and now came the second.

She had to assume that Edward's guess was right: Aro wouldn't be looking for the futures of the Lower Order. Of course, he'd be looking for his own future, and if Alice saw a certain outcome . . . Bella could only hope that Alice was as good at diverting her attention as Edward had said. He'd told Bella that Alice had learned to hide thoughts from him. Could she hide them from Aro too?

"Well, you're about to find out," she muttered to herself.

Mustering her courage, she walked quickly to the Lower Order's little room on the lower level and knocked on the door. When it was opened by Marcus the Lesser, she almost cleared her throat, she was so full of nerves. She would not lose courage this time, she told herself, for there was no more time left. Either she could trust him, or she couldn't. She looked up at the man she had come to view as a friend and spoke the words she hadn't dared to until now.

"I have something to ask of you."

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	58. Safe for now

A/N for 2021-02-14: Happy Valentines, folks. I hope it's a good one for you all. As always, my thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their extensive beta work on this story.

Erin

* * *

Demetri rubbed his forefinger against his thumb, making small circles. The physical gesture matched the action in his mind as his greater senses swirled through the air, sampling the essences of those around him. His gift for tracking was snake-like, slinking about and tasting the ether, easing closer and closer to his prize until he was near enough to strike. Searching now, he attempted to pin down the particularly slippery quality he’d come to associate with Victoria. He’d sensed it earlier when Jane and Alec had located and dispensed with two of Victoria’s much-diminished but still troublesome army. 

“Well?” Jane all but demanded.

He lifted his upper lip in a silent snarl. Telling her to be quiet had no effect. Threatening her was even more pointless, but like the habit of his fingers, it was his pattern. He snarled, and she hissed, both silently.

The taste of his latest meal was still in his mouth, the flavour dulling his senses a little. Only briefly had he questioned the wisdom of feeding, but a meal so freely hunted was a delicacy after so many taken from the penned prey of the castle. He licked his lips. A hunt always sweetened the drink. 

Running his tongue over his teeth, he returned his thoughts to his present hunt. It was a frustrating one. Usually his prey practically fell into his grip. 

Not this time. Victoria was . . . elusive. Even locating her with his mind was difficult. The rare aggravation reminded him of Bella—or, not of her, but of the futility of his gift when it came to locating her. Frowning, he paced away from Jane, walking towards the edge of the woods and the sunlight. They were miles from any human gaze, and he let himself step into the warmth of the sun, closing his eyes and remembering.

“Hmm.”

“Hurry up,” Jane called. “I’m bored.”

She was so easily bored. 

With a sigh, he set aside his preferred memories of warm flesh. He could easily recall the way Bella’s blood had smelled, and while he missed this most human aspect of her, he looked forward to enjoying the less human and more endurable aspects, too. Surely Marcus was mistaken in his assessment of the situation; in Demetri’s opinion, Aro gave too much credence to the nonsensical musings of his fellow Ancient. It was simply impossible that his Bella could be bonded so firmly to another, not when Demetri had endeared himself to her—had in fact physically _claimed_ her in her most impressionable human days. No, she was his. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

“Tcha.” Would no one let him do his work? He looked at the screen and frowned again. Heidi’s text was a short three letters: _Tra_. Another of her silly bed games, no doubt. She was a pleasant distraction, but he had no time to play now. Surely she knew that. Putting his phone away, he swept his awareness over the landscape again. Victoria’s movement was barely a shimmer in his mind, but it was there. “West!” He yelled and then began running, his grey-clad counterparts mere whispers behind him as he shortened the distance between himself and his unlucky prey.

\- 0 -

If it would have helped calm her increasingly agitated nerves, or whatever they were called in this new body of hers, Bella would have gnawed at her fingernails. Instead, she walked around the reading room, flipping through the pages of her book as she paced. Making her steps as loud as possible, she listened for any unusual sounds. There was no set schedule, and her anxiety waxed and waned with the swirl of her thoughts. The sweep of sunlight over the floor told her that the day was progressing. 

Near sunset, her vigilance was rewarded. A faint but familiar tingling swept over her arms and back, and she tensed in eager anticipation. It had begun. 

The sound of startled and disgusted vampire voices reacting to an odorous disturbance reached her. She kept pacing, a nervous smile spreading over her face. Yes, she could smell it, too—and she’d never been so happy to be olfactorily revolted. Several of the remaining guard members were being dispatched to find the source of the smell coming from Volterra’s streets.

It wouldn’t take them long to locate it, and Bella moved quickly down the library stairs, locating Marcus the Lesser on the third level. “Now,” she said, her voice breathy with apprehension.

He nodded and turned in the appointed direction while Bella hurried back up to the reading room, the familiar sensations running through her body now impossible to ignore.

Meanwhile, the vampire-offending odour grew stronger, and she heard a voice she knew well—Jacob’s voice!—echoing off the Volturi’s stone hallways: “What is this place? Man, it stinks in here! Pee-yew! What is this weird tourist trap?”

“Just follow me, please,” Heidi replied smoothly. Bella swore she could hear a sour note in the woman’s normally sugared tone. It was all she could do to suppress a near-hysterical laugh. She was certain Jake and anyone with him weren’t being brought into the castle as food but only to satisfy the vampires’ curiosity about the atrocious smell that had invaded the city. Bella imagined that Heidi was displeased at being sent on such a lowly errand. 

Prickles of awareness again intruded on Bella’s thoughts. _Calm down!_ She almost hissed at herself in warning. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand over her abdomen, which felt like it had pins and needles dancing in it. _Soon_ , she told herself. _Soon._

A moment later, Aro’s alarmed voice travelled down the hall from the throne room. “What are you hiding, Alice?”

“I’ve hidden nothing from you, Aro. I just can’t _see_ anything.” Alice sounded genuinely concerned. 

It was working! Hands back at her sides, Bella made and unmade tight fists. So much could go wrong. _Breathe_ , she told herself. 

When the wild newborn with his wide-eyed stare appeared at the head of the stairs, Bella stared right back and then slowly stepped aside, letting the man’s panicked gaze take in both the sight of her and the large door behind her. Marcus the Lesser had released him right on cue. The newborn bolted for the exit, splintering off one of the carved handles in his frenzied dash for freedom. His noisy exit was obscured by the hollow sound of someone—several someones—crawling rapidly through the vents. As alarmed voices in the halls began calling out about the escaped newborn, Bella paced by the large grate, which abruptly cracked as pale, familiar hands pushed it aside. Anything that happened between then and finding herself wrapped in a pair of arms was lost, because those arms were _home_.

“You’re here!” She wanted to cry, returning Edward’s embrace, but feared there was no time. 

Edward was of the same mind. “We need to move now. Jacob, Seth, and Leah need us,” he said, pressing a hard kiss to the top of her head before pulling away. He didn’t let go of her completely—his hand felt like a vise, gripping her own, but she nodded, swallowing the powerful tangle of emotions in her gut. _Seth and Leah, too?_

The rest of the Cullens emerged from the tunnel opening, all of their faces set with determination. They were here on grim business, and they would attend to it first before they made time for more than cursory reunions. She sensed, more than heard, their muted greetings although Esme, probably unable to help herself, rushed forward to give her a quick hug before they were on their way. 

Several faces that she didn’t recognize had also emerged from the shaft. The familiarity with which the Cullens treated them told Bella that these were most likely her new cousins, the Denalis. They nodded to Bella briefly, but it was clear they were intent on the matter at hand.

Bella had never run through the hallways at Volterra, but she did now with her family, all of them keeping a tight formation with Edward and Bella in the lead. They ran unchallenged, and Jasper joined them out of nowhere just before they reached their destination. Most of the other guard members were already in the throne room. As Bella and Edward slammed the doors open, they and the rest of their group paused for only a fraction of a second, watching as Jacob, Seth, and Leah exploded into their wolf forms. 

Aro stood, hissing loudly. Renata crouched in front of him, and the rest of the guard circled the three leaders.

“What is this?” Aro sounded incredulous and half amused.

“Justice,” Edward said with a snarl, his teeth bared.

Aro merely laughed, and his eyes sought out Edward’s father. “Carlisle? Does your misguided progeny speak for your coven now?”

Carlisle replied in an even tone, one that held no note of friendliness for his former host. “I believe my son and daughter have business with you.”

Aro lifted his eyebrows in response, still smiling. Without changing his expression, he waved two fingers at the guard, who all advanced as one in the direction of the Cullens and wolves.

Alice pretended to move with the guard, suddenly turning on the grey-clad figure beside her and snapping the man’s neck.

With this sudden mutinous act, the expressions on the other guards’s faces were far less confident than that on Aro’s, particularly once the wolves had started toward them, and Heidi began shrieking, “Traditori!” repeatedly. Her cry would summon any help there was to be had from other quarters in the castle.

The room erupted into chaos as the two opposing sides converged on each other. Bella registered the almost painful loss of Edward’s hand from hers at the same moment she spotted him several feet in front of her, pouncing on Heidi and slapping her phone from her grasp. It landed with a loud crack and slid across the floor. Heidi sprang away as Edward moved forward, each quickly met by other opponents. Bella lost sight of both of them as she herself was attacked. 

Wrestling with Alejandro, Bella kept catching glimpses of Aro standing behind the guard’s protective line. She had bested Alejandro before in practice, but this was no practice, and the small man fought with the desperation that mortal imperilment supplied. She dodged his lunge and pivoted to pin him to the ground, just as she’d learned in her training with Jasper. Aro continued to smile from beside his throne, but as Bella brought her teeth to Alejandro’s neck, she took satisfaction in watching that smile slide into a frown. She had no time to gloat, for as she whipped around to face her next assailant, she understood why Aro’s visage had changed. The full ranks of the Lower Order had joined the fray, and they were attempting to help the Cullen contingent. Untrained in combat, they were doing so at a very high cost. Three of the brown-clad bodies already lay on the ground in pieces. She caught a glimpse of Emmett dispatching the guard member he was grappling with before ripping another away from Dominic, whose size had him at a disadvantage. Emmett threw Dominic’s opponent to the side where Rose caught him almost in midair, ripping off his arm just as Bella’s attention was diverted again. 

Heidi’s shrieked “Traditrice!” was synchronous with her sudden assault. She had Bella on the ground, her teeth to her neck before another growl and a blur of stinking brown fur displaced her. Jacob snarled down at Heidi and with a quick jerk of his head, claimed her as his prey. Looking up, Bella watched the ruler Marcus push past the guard to stand in the centre of the room with his eyes closed and his arms outstretched. Bella didn’t understand his muttered words and never would, because a grey wolf dissevered Marcus’s head from his body. It rolled several feet away to stop by a column, the face’s fixed expression unexpectedly peaceful. 

Bella launched herself towards the members of the Lower Order, spotting Esme and Carlisle moving to help her. There were even fewer of the brown-clad vampires than when she’d last looked. Blocking the guard member attacking Erastus, Bella glanced up to look for Edward. He was heading with determination towards the now unprotected dais where Aro stood with only Renata. Caius had joined the guards in battle, and the Cullens, Denalis, and wolves were still on their feet. The tide was turning. They were winning!

It was then she heard more footsteps rattling down the hall.

With shrill cries, seven female vampires flung themselves into the fight. The wives and their guards were as vicious as any of the other opponents Bella had faced so far, except they didn’t attack her—they began with the Lower Order, who still were closest to the door. The sound of the women’s high voices chilled Bella, and it made her freeze for just a moment—a moment too long.

A woman with fiery eyes and equally fiery hair had Dominic’s head between her hands.

“No!” Bella cried.

“Left!” Jasper called, leaping to her side and dodging right.

She followed his command, landing behind the woman and catching her as Jasper knocked her loose. The woman’s skin was as ancient as Aro’s, and it tasted bitter as Bella sank her teeth into her neck. She cast the head aside, so intent on her kill that the sound of Aro’s roar only reached her consciousness in pieces. Looking up, she traced his horrified gaze to the body beneath her, realizing that she’d just killed Sulpicia—his mate.

\- 0 -

Edward had fought his way to where he wanted to be, but he had not tried attacking Aro yet. He knew there was no point with Renata guarding him. She was loyal to a fault, and there was no crack to leverage in that loyalty. She would willingly die for Aro, and Edward could not defeat both of them at the same time. By virtue of numbers alone, the Cullens would rout the guard and their leaders. It was only a matter of time. For now, he kept Aro penned between the dias and the back wall, letting him think he was trying to get to him. In truth, he was waiting on one of the wolves. Jacob was his preference, but Leah or Seth would do. 

As Aro roared his fury and grief at the sight of his beloved Sulpicia now dead at Bella’s feet, Edward thought he should feel something for him—some pity for the loss of his wife, his mate—but he could not. He could only feel satisfaction at the justice his own mate had just delivered. He supposed he was a monster for feeling so, but Aro was the greater one, and Edward would atone for his own transgressions later. For now, the best he could offer was a speedy end to Aro’s misery. 

“Kill her!” Aro yelled, pointing to Bella. 

If there was anything that could have distracted Edward from his purpose, it would have been this order. But he already knew that his mate was well guarded by Jasper and Alice and could see her through their eyes. She fought alongside them, and they would keep her safe.

Already on the defensive, the remaining guard members weren’t free to respond to Aro’s edict—all except Chelsea, who landed a mangling blow to Seth, kicking him aside. She was readying herself to lunge for the kill when Leah threw herself into Chelsea’s path, shoving the small vampire away from her brother.

Edward took his time herding Aro and Renata away from the dais and towards the side of the room. This move would leave Aro even more open to attack, and it would keep Renata busy until Edward could acquire the help he needed. With Seth down for now and the other wolves still occupied, he focused his gift on the minds closest to him, particularly those he hadn’t considered before. 

The one member of the Lower Order who seemed to know how to fight was Marcus the Lesser. Though the source of the training surprised Edward, he remained intent on the prey in front of him when he realized that Marcus was heading his way to offer assistance.

 _The others will return, Edward_ . Aro had finally realized the gravity of the situation and communicated silently with him. _Even if you destroy me, you will all fail when faced with the rest of the guard—the most gifted ones trained in combat._

“We’ll take our chances.”

Nearby, Marcus leapt back to avoid a swipe from Sebastian, but his jump landed him within reach of Aro.

Aro took immediate advantage, closing his pale and dusty-looking hands around Marcus’s neck. Before Edward could react, Chelsea’s voice carried from behind him with a roaring “No!” and she lunged forward. As Renata moved to block her, they collided and crashed into Aro, knocking him off balance. Marcus broke free and positioned himself by Edward. Unable to complete her attack on Aro, Chelsea turned the full force of her rage on Renata. They were evenly matched in size, but any advantage Renata had was overshadowed by Chelsea’s fierce protectiveness for Marcus. Though startled and confused by Chelsea’s sudden change in allegiance, Edward was grateful for the assistance. With Marcus by his side, Aro had no escape route. All three men watched Chelsea brutally dismember Renata, the sounds of her shredding, ripping, and growling filling in any empty air the battle had left. The thoughts of fury and vengeance Edward could hear in Chelsea’s mind were surprisingly similar to his own.

At last, Aro was truly frightened. He was alone and unguarded, facing an opponent that could read every one of his thoughts—a vampire who had myriad reasons to despise him. His guard members were being killed at a steady pace. His sense of bravado was gone. It was no surprise when he began his attempts to bargain his way out of the deadly predicament. 

This time he spoke aloud. “If you kill me, Edward, then what will you do? Rule in my place? Apply your sire’s soft-handed approach to the vampire world?”

Edward did not answer. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the gouged and broken stones in the floor, the ones damaged by his own hands in his futile attempt to crawl from the room when Demetri had raped Bella. The memory was perfect in his mind, and the horrifying film reel was playing now—only all the months of pent-up frustration and rage over the attack finally had a place to go. His need for vengeance had a target, and it was right in front of him.

Edward moved like a cat, prowling in a semi-circle around his prey. His family and the wolves had just three guard members to finish. Child’s play. He knew they would not intervene. Nor would Tanya and her sisters, who had every right to seek justice, having witnessed their mother’s destruction on Aro’s orders. He could hear the three of them silently urging him on, allowing his quest for retribution to stand for all of them. His focus was intent on Aro, his eyes never leaving the desperate man whose expression displayed his burgeoning panic.

“You will be overrun.” Aro was whining now, cajoling him. “Your populace will eat you alive. Even the Romanians will have a chance to best you. I’ve seen the way you all conduct yourselves. I’ve listened to your thoughts and your sire’s. I know how vulnerable you are. You’d be best served leaving me to guide you, Edward.”

Aro’s words flowed past him like water. Edward was lost to the memories of that monstrous night, to the atrocities to which he’d been an unwilling witness to and participant in, and to the many humiliations he’d been made to endure. The source of them all was before him, utterly unprotected. He reveled, knowing the present circumstances made his talent superior to Aro’s. He feinted left and then leapt right to counter Aro’s last desperate movement. When Edward’s teeth landed on their mark, his hands finished the job his bite had begun. With one fierce twist, Aro’s immortal life was done.

Without ceremony, Edward pulled a lighter from his pocket and ignited it, dropping it beside Aro’s head. Wicking through Aro’s long hair, the flames rushed up in a violent _whoosh_. He kicked the remainder of the corpse into the fire where it flared brightly for one last, brief moment. 

Scanning the minds around him quickly, he registered that his family, the Denalis, and the wolves were alive and relatively unscathed. They were not without losses on their side, though. As for the remaining Volturi leader, Carlisle and Emmett had disposed of Caius without any offer of clemency. Edward’s feet barely touched the stones as he nearly flew to Bella’s side and the two of them fell into each other’s arms. They were safe—for now.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	59. Lingering Threats

A/N for 2021-02-21: As always, my thanks to the two amazing betas who work on this story, chayasara and Eeyorefan12.

Erin

* * *

Edward's arms were around Bella in a viselike embrace yet again. Her grip was just as tight even though she was sure she must be hurting him with her newborn strength. It was a most reassuring compression. Yet, despite having the comfort she'd so longed for over the last days, her heart and mind were not free of worry.

"We need to check that we got them all," she said into his chest, whispering out of necessity. Edward hadn't left her much air with which to speak.

Lessening the pressure a little, he ran his hand from the top of her head down to her waist before pulling her tightly against him again. She wondered if he were physically unable to let her go. She knew she felt the same. "No, we don't, not unless someone has learned to hide their thoughts in the last five minutes. The others can check if they wish. Please give me this moment." WIth his lips buried in her neck, nearly touching the scar that marked her as his, these words were spoken with a quiet desperation.

She squeezed him tighter within her own embrace, ignoring his flinch of pain, rubbing his back to soothe him. "I'm okay." While this was the case now, she'd known equal parts terror and frenzy in the heat of battle, and she didn't doubt that Edward had too. "You killed him. He can't hurt us anymore."

Edward exhaled into her neck. "We'll never be apart again." It seemed as much a reassurance as a promise. It certainly sounded reassuring to Bella, not that they were in any way fully clear of danger, not with the rest of the guard due back soon.

With the turmoil of combat only a few minutes behind them and the search for lingering threats still ongoing, Bella was beginning to make sense of more than just her mate's embrace and their mutual need for connection. Other unhappy sounds were reaching her ears.

Marcus—the only Marcus remaining—was comforting one of his brethren, or attempting to do so. The quietly wailing man held a severed head, stroking its hair and trying to close the pale pink lids to the now-vacant eyes.

Bella had seen many members of the Lower Order fall, their heads literally rolling across the floor in the heat of the battle. She swallowed, looking up at Edward who had lifted his chin and was also watching.

"They won't," he said softly, possibly anticipating her question.

"Could you hear—?"

"No." He smiled apologetically, smoothing her hair down the side of her face. "I couldn't hear your thoughts. It's just a logical question to ask. Technically it's possible to reattach our heads, but there are . . . complications afterwards. It's usually a kindness not to attempt it."

Bella did not push the question further.

From outside the throne room, Emmett, Rose, Jasper, and Alice's voices called out, "Clear," at various intervals.

Edward slowly released his grip on Bella, looking towards the much diminished faction of the Lower Order. She understood he meant to let her go to them, and she wondered what he was hearing that had convinced him to release her. He followed closely behind her as she made her way over.

She knelt when she reached the small, huddled group, resting her arm on the shoulder of the man who continued to weep. "I'm sorry."

"I am, my Lady, and I am not," he said, his voice shaking. "He is at peace." He buried his face in the man's hair. "My friend is at peace."

"His service to the order was long," Marcus said quietly to Bella and Edward. "And it was very hard. Some ends are a blessing."

In total, there were seven bodies from the Lower Order to be burned.

When Marcus stood up, he spoke for the order, his tone firm but still respectful. "We'll clear the room."

"Wait." Edward had been watching Marcus intently, and he glanced down at the floor where the bodies rested. "You'll want to pay your respects. We have time."

Bella watched Marcus blink, a sign of his surprise at such an unexpected and gracious offer. "Of course." Then he looked to Edward again, clearly seeking further guidance.

"Yes," Edward said in answer to Marcus's silent question. "Winding cloths or shrouds. Flowers and a favoured item are customary, too."

From just outside the throne room, Bella heard Jasper speaking urgently with Jacob. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but you need to leave for now and to make plans to be gone for a while."

"But you'll need us—"

"We absolutely will want you here, just like before, and your help will be most welcome, but first Alice needs a chance to see."

"If they come back while we're gone—"

"We'll call you as soon as she sees something, or we know they're coming."

"Bella? Edward?" Jacob called. His voice was even, and it was clear he wasn't challenging Jasper but seeking their blessing. They both nodded at him.

Seth was already up and moving, Carlisle having made sure the young man's wounds were healing as they should. "I'm good."

Jacob nodded curtly in Bella and Edward's direction. "Call us as soon as you know something."

"We will," Edward said. "Thank you, Jacob."

As she watched Jacob, Seth, and Leah leave, Bella hoped they would at least have a few moments to rest. While the trio was now dressed in clothes they'd pulled from their backpacks, they moved less quickly than she remembered them doing before. She shook her head. Maybe she wasn't thinking straight, given all that had just occurred. She didn't need rest herself, but the relief she felt at being reunited with her mate was overwhelming, and she found herself longing for privacy and the reassurance of Edward's embrace. That and a healthy stretch of time would do a great deal to displace recent memories.

Marcus's soft voice brought her back to the matter at hand. He and the remaining members of the Lower Order were wrapping their fallen in sheets. With reverent precision, another member placed a single stem of a flower on each body, this on top of what Bella assumed was a favoured book.

There were no words spoken by any of the vampires gathered. Bella imagined that after so long together, there was little need to recall what the order members so intimately knew of each other.

"Here?" Erastus finally asked Marcus, holding a box of matches.

"Here," Marcus said. He lit and dropped a match to the first body and then handed the small matchbox to Erastus. And so it was passed from hand to hand to ensure that each of their fallen brothers was not alone as he embarked upon his final journey but was venerated by a kindred spirit whose life would go on.

As Bella watched the somber ceremony, along with the members of her family who were still in the room, she thought it curious that Chelsea stepped forward to stand beside Marcus. Her curiosity turned to surprise when she saw the two of them join hands. She glanced up at Edward beside her, wondering what he thought of this.

"Amazing," Edward murmured, obviously having seen what she had and using his gift to fill in the blanks. "How did they keep this from him?"

 _And from you and Alice_ , Bella thought silently. She wondered how anyone without a gift like hers had the ability and mental strength to hide something so monumental from two powerful mind-readers and a practiced seer. Not to mention Marcus the Ancient, who would have been able to sense any bond between them. There was no other explanation but that he had protected their secret—for reasons none of them would ever know.

When the last body was no more than dusty ash, Marcus surveyed his small group with Chelsea by his side, communicating something with his eyes that Bella could only guess at, before turning to the rest of the vampires in the room. When he spoke, his voice rang with authority. "We'll fight with you again."

\- 0 -

As far as Bella could tell, the Wolves must have gone far enough away for Alice to be able to see because her sister had her eyes closed, hands to her head, her brow furrowed in concentration. "They found her. She's been destroyed."

Bella wondered if she were imagining the collective sigh of relief she felt run throughout their group upon hearing Alice's words. Victoria was finally and truly gone. Even having watched Aro's destruction only an hour before, this news seemed nearly as monumental to her. Should she dare to hope that the last of their enemies would soon be dealt with as definitively?

Alice was still concentrating on her visions. "They're travelling," she murmured. "They'll be here just after sunset, but I don't know if it will be today or tomorrow." She hesitated. "Tomorrow," she said with assurance.

Alice still had her eyes closed, and Bella watched her wince a little before Edward did too. Alice looked up then, and the two of them locked gazes, some silent communication passing between them.

"No," Alice said, smiling sadly and shaking her head at him. "We can't."

"What?" Bella asked.

"They're going to feed on their way here," Edward said quietly. "A small refugee encampment."

From the looks on Edward and Alice's faces, she understood that they wanted to stop it, but that would have other unwanted consequences. Bella's gut twisted, thinking of the human lives that would soon be extinguished. She'd understood that both Alice and Edward's gifts came with a balance of benefits and drawbacks, but it was a particularly excruciating understanding now. They—all of them assembled in this room including her—would knowingly let people die in order to serve a greater good. At least, they hoped it would be a greater good.

Bella supposed Edward and her new sister had both had a lot longer to make peace with the uglier sides of their gifts. After Bella's change, when Edward was helping her retain her memories, he had shared his past with her again, including his struggle to come to terms with not being able to right every wrong he heard in the minds around him. Somehow Bella hadn't equated his difficulties with Alice's ability before, but now she wondered what it would be like to constantly see terrible events like the upcoming attack on these humans and be unable to stop them. Her heart ached for both of them in this moment but especially for Alice. Not all evils could be prevented, but most people were blissfully unaware of them.

"We need to let them come to us." Alice was looking around the room. "We'll have the advantage here." She seemed resolved.

The Cullens nodded as did the members of the Lower Order. The large group broke apart at that moment, mated pairs turning to each other, the Denali's conferring quietly, and the members of the Lower Order murmuring amongst themselves. As much as she wanted to drag Edward away for a few moments on their own, Bella remained in their own small huddle with Alice and Jasper.

"They'll be forewarned," Jasper said. He didn't need to explain how. The smell of ash was thick both inside and outside the castle. Any vampire approaching Volterra would know that there had been a massacre of their kind. The intensity of the odour was too great to be explained away by Volturi justice.

Bella looked at Jasper. His folded arms and sombre expression were not heartening, and then his words were even less so. "Given their abilities, we need to plan very carefully—and use our talents with precision." Here he looked to Bella. "Even the uproven ones."

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "I've only managed to do it a few times, and—"

"When Demetri was there," Jasper said calmly. "As he will be this time."

Bella felt Edward inadvertently tighten his hand on her arm, and she realized how confusing this conversation, and whatever images he was seeing in Jasper's head, must be. They hadn't had any time to talk about their time apart.

"We can end him now," Jasper continued. " _You_ can help end him."

On seeing the question in Edward's eyes, Jasper quickly filled him in on what had transpired with regard to Bella's newly discovered talent. As he did this, something flared inside her. Excitement? Fear? She wasn't sure, but the familiar bubbling sensation began in her arms. Was Jasper manipulating her with his gift, or was this all her?

"She's a shield?" one of the Denali women asked.

Though they had momentarily split off into separate conversations, the one they were engaged in now had silenced all the others. At the moment, everyone seemed to be staring in their direction—or more precisely, at Bella.

Edward curled his arm around her shoulders, an instinctive and protective gesture in response to the sudden focus on her.

"A shield," the male member of the Denali said. "Of course." He nodded to himself as if he had just solved a puzzle.

She wasn't sure he was using the right term. More importantly, she wasn't sure it was something she could control well enough to be useful in a fight. If Jasper expected her to be able to protect anyone—the beginnings of panic bubbled in her gut. She'd barely begun to be able to initiate her ability, let alone wield it with precision. If anyone counted on her and she failed, even for a few seconds or minutes as she had with Erastus and Marcus—

"Jasper, I don't think you can depend on my shield, or whatever you want to call it. I'm still learning—"

"You protected me, my lady." She would have missed Erastus's words, spoken so diffidently, if she were human. His posture was equally acquiescent, but clearly he had seen how worried she was and wanted to ease her mind.

"Only after they hurt you." She shook her head. "I took too long. Even with Marcus—"

"It was only a few seconds." Marcus spoke gently. "Hardly any time at all."

She stared at him, partly shocked that he could dismiss his pain so readily. Even a few seconds was plenty of time for a vampire to inflict damage—physical or otherwise. To kill, even.

"It's all right, Darlin'." Jasper said quietly. "We're just askin' you to try. There's a chance you could be a big help."

 _A chance_.

It hit her then. No matter how much experience they had between them, no matter how good a strategist Jasper was, how strong Emmett was, or even how well Edward could hear the moves their opponents were about to make, they were going up against the most elite fighters of the Volturi guard. If the wolves were vulnerable to Alec and Jane's gifts—and there was nothing to suggest they weren't—all of them would be at Jane and Alec's mercy unless they could take them out first. But this exclusive group of vampires had defended the ruling coven of the vampire world for centuries. They had probably survived countless attacks on Volterra, fought hundreds of battles. They knew how to defend themselves, and they knew how to strategically use their gifts better than she could possibly imagine. And Jasper thought she had a _chance_ of helping with her uncertain and unpredictable new talent? No, it was impossible. Anyone she tried to protect would likely wind up incapacitated and dead in moments. What if that "anyone" was Edward? What if—

She felt Edward's hands cup her face before she registered the sight of him. "Whatever you're thinking, please stop. It's not going to happen."

It was easier said than done. All she could imagine in that moment was the worst possible scenario: one where Edward was dead and she wasn't. One where Demetri attempted to make claims on her again, and there was no one left to stop him. . .

"Bella."

Edward's voice called her back from the brink. He pressed his forehead to hers. "It's going to be okay. With what Jasper described and Erastus and Marcus just showed me, I know what you can do, and I believe in you. But even without our gifts, none of us are alone here. We will all do this together."

She closed her eyes and focused on his words and his soothing tone. He sounded so confident. She wanted to feel the same.

"Bella, there's something else I want for you." Edward had leaned in even closer, his mouth at her ear, his quiet tone as seductive as it was persuasive. "It's your turn. I want you to have the satisfaction of destroying the vile creature who dared to lay his hands on you. I want you to hear his screams as you tear him limb from limb and to watch him burn until he's nothing but ash. I want you to _feel_ the justice that you've been denied for what he took from you, from us. Don't you want that too?"

At his words, her vision of disaster and helplessness shifted as if a switch had been flipped. She recalled her frustration at having her attempt to dismember Demetri stymied by Jasper a few days before. As that image returned to her, a low and menacing growl reverberated through the stone room. Only after the sound echoed back to her, matching the timbre in her chest, did she realize it came from her.

"There's my girl," Edward whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bella watched Emmett's lips twist. Was that a snicker? Having had so many emotions wrung from her in such a short time, Bella found herself going from a growl to a nervous giggle. It felt grossly inappropriate, but as she scanned the room, she could see there were now smiles on other faces. Clearly, she wasn't the only one feeling the swing of heightened emotions.

One of the unfamiliar women stepped closer to them, smirking a little. "I believe it is time to introduce your mate to us, Edward." Bella tensed as the woman reached out to touch his arm but, after a calculating glance at Bella's face, she appeared to reconsider, lowering her hand to her side and stepping back again. "Perhaps this is close enough for now." The blonde stranger was still smiling but Bella registered the note of amusement in her tone and wondered at it.

Beside her, Edward chuckled and tightened his arm around Bella before running his free hand through his hair, a most human gesture of embarrassment. "Of course, Tanya." He introduced Bella to the members of the Denali coven, which included four incredibly beautiful women and the man mated to one of them, and each greeted her in their turn.

"What did you mean, a shield?" Bella asked when she formally met Eleazar. It wasn't that the term was surprising, but he seemed to know about it, and given Aro's reference to him and his talent, she wondered if he was the same—and if he had any insight she could use in making sense of her abilities.

"Simply that. You can shield yourself. You're shielding yourself right now."

She was? She checked herself carefully. No, no bubbling. She shook her head.

"Your mind, that is," Eleazar said, smiling. "That's why Edward cannot hear you."

"Eleazar can sense the talents of other vampires," Edward explained. "He was, uh—"

"I was once a member of the guard." Eleazar's smile was somewhat rueful as he finished Edward's sentence for him. Clearly, he was as uncomfortable with the topic as Edward had been. "But your gift—I understand you were silent to Edward when you were human?"

Bella nodded.

"And you are still. Hmm."

"I'm choosing that?" The idea seemed implausible. She couldn't imagine consciously choosing to hide something from Edward.

"On some level." Eleazar shrugged. "Most gifts manifest first in an instinctive manner. If you are willing to answer a few of my questions about it, perhaps I can help you to better realize the characteristics of yours."

But Edward still had his hands on her and now he was sliding them around her midsection from behind, his nose in her hair. His embrace was tight, and she welcomed it, her conversation with Eleazar forgotten. She and Edward were more than ready to be alone with each other. Her need to focus on only him and to reassure herself of his wholeness and well-being was overpowering. She leaned her head back against his chest, reveling in the physical connection.

"There will be time for questions later," Edward said, essentially dismissing Eleazar—and anyone else in the room—for the time being.

"We need to make plans for tomorrow," Rose murmured.

"Later," Edward repeated.

". . . a more concise plan of attack," said Irina.

There were a few murmurs of agreement throughout the room although some of the voices were less than enthusiastic. Bella paid all of them little mind as she turned in Edward's embrace, pressing herself more tightly against him. There was an urgency in both of them, a mutual need for assurance of the other's well-being that required privacy in which to transpire.

"Which chamber is yours?" Edward whispered, ignoring the rest of the room now, just as she was.

"Yours." She smiled.

"Edward." It was Jasper's voice, chastising his brother.

"Jasper." There was no mistaking the near-snarled response from Edward; he was resolute. His eyes remained focused on Bella's as he slid his hands firmly down her back and clutched the fabric of her shirt. She heard the low growl in his chest and felt the responding one in hers.

The room around them fell silent for several moments. Just when Bella believed she could not bear another second of waiting, Carlisle's voice broke the standoff.

"I propose that this would be a good time for those who need to hunt to do so." The calm authority in his voice carried across the room. "And for the rest, perhaps an hour or two spent with families and mates would not cause undue delay in our planning. If this is an agreeable solution, shall we reconvene here in a few hours?"

Bella never heard anyone else's response to Carlisle's last question because she and Edward were already gone, racing from the throne room towards the promise of welcome seclusion. No matter what the next day would bring, no matter what threats they would face or what fearful outcomes loomed, at least for the next few hours she knew she had everything she could want.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight, including any named but invisible mates of the characters she has created and who don’t seem to serve any real purpose and who don’t appear in the books except on lists of dubious value which appear as appendices...oh, and no copyright infringement intended, too.


	60. Not all right

A/N for 2020-02-28: I am so very pleased to offer up this chapter to you. Much of it is the fruit of Eeyorefan12's fine ideas. Many, many thanks to her for being so kind with sharing her inspiration and words. Many thanks as well to Chayasara for correcting my many punctuation errors and suggesting better words and phrasing. I'm grateful to have such sharp minds working on this story.

There will be at least one more chapter for this story, and maybe one more after that. Until then, happy reading!

\- Erin

* * *

The bitter smell of burnt vampire bodies was thick in the night air. Demetri scanned Volterra’s twisting streets for clues, doubtful he would find any but alert. When the Volturi wrought justice, it was not always unopposed. It was wise to watch for vengeful mates and coven members.

“Someone’s been busy.” Jane sounded disappointed. She liked to watch the punishments and burnings. 

Beside her in the car, Alec hummed his agreement. He liked Aro’s punitive pyres, too. Of course, such large conflagrations with witnesses present were rare. Most remains were unceremoniously disposed of in the basement incinerator.

Demetri relished their displeasure, a small smirk on his lips. He enjoyed Jane’s annoyance especially. She was too often indulged by Aro, and it showed. Perhaps her place as a favourite was slipping a little now that Bella had demonstrated her power. He would see her soon, and the thought thrilled him. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel in anticipation. They were returning with an efficient success behind them. Victoria and her remaining soldiers were no more. Their success rested largely on his own gifts, and he hoped Aro’s approval would settle on his shoulders too.

Rounding the corner to the narrow ramp into the parking garage, Demetri punched in the code to open the door. The gate lifted, and the smell intensified, bringing with it a rancorous and rotten odour.

“Ugh, what is that?” Jane stopped breathing. 

Alec looked like he wanted to do the same. Felix, dull mass of muscle that he was, said nothing. Demetri mostly hid his revulsion though his nose seemed to wrinkle of its own accord. 

“What is the source of that disgusting scent?” Jane demanded of the brown-clad member of the Lower Order who’d scurried over to take their bags.

“Humans,” he said softly, his eyes appropriately downcast.

“Really?” Alec’s voice registered excitement.

“You’re expected in the throne room,” the man added.

“Obviously,” Jane muttered. It was standard procedure to report to the trio of leaders first. All other business came second.

“Their Eminences are busy in the library.” The quiet man’s head remained bowed, likely attempting to avoid Jane’s notice. “They wish you to wait for them.”

Jane frowned. “Have my things cleaned quickly— _after_ that smell is dealt with.” As she walked towards the elevator, she did not bother to look back to see if the man heard her.

The others followed, Demetri trailing behind, trying to pinpoint the source of his uneasiness. Nothing was overtly wrong, at least beyond that smell—God, it was horrific. How were the other guard members tolerating it? And why? Any human that smelled so unappealing should be disposed of forthwith.

Returning his thoughts to preferable topics, he wondered how their success would be rewarded. Perhaps Aro would permit him more time with Bella. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Marcus’s pronouncement of Bella’s supposed bond with Edward seemed to carry significant weight with Aro.

But no matter, he thought. All things in good time, and time was something he had in infinite measure.

As the elevator doors opened, the repugnant smell only intensified.

“Eww,” Alec muttered.

There were other scents that Demetri picked up, two or three of them unexpectedly familiar, and these—especially one in particular—made him growl.

Jane recognized Edward’s scent, too, laughing at Demetri. “Aw, poor Demetri. Does the competition intimidate you?”

He ignored her as they glided towards the throne room, their steps slowing marginally. It was difficult to make himself keep moving, so repugnant was the odour emanating from their destination. He ignored the many new scents of unfamiliar vampires. He suspected that they were no more than ash, given the cloying odour in the hall. Why the bodies hadn’t been disposed of in the furnace, he had no idea. Perhaps Caius had convinced Aro to return to the old ways when the guilty were incinerated directly after judgment was passed. He wondered what the lawbreakers had done.

Letting Jane and Alec take the lead, he watched them push open the doors and then pause.

A trio of shaking humans faced them. None of the other guards were present. A few of the Lower Order stood behind the thrones in the formation used for official meetings. It was most unusual. Something was afoot. 

“What is this?” Alec whispered to Jane.

But she was too busy hissing at the three frightened people, laughing as the woman shrieked. 

Demetri chuckled, too, and then stopped when he found himself suddenly surrounded by moving bodies falling from above. 

\- 0 -

The Cullens had planned for every contingency they could envision. Bella knew they had no reason to fear the handful of additional guard members that the elite few might still have with them because their own numbers were so strong and their battle strategy solid. As long as their enemy entered the throne room at the right time and everyone stuck to the plan, Alice saw a good outcome. What she had not been able to foretell was that a previously unknown variable would change everything.

From the moment Jasper gave the signal and Bella dropped from her perch with the others, she focused only on her assigned task, which was to get to Demetri as quickly as possible. She glanced to the side to assure herself that Eleazar and Tanya were on the same trajectory before returning her attention to her target. Behind her, she both heard and felt the moment that the Quileutes burst into their wolf forms, with Jacob and Leah heading to join Jasper and Alice in taking Alec down. Once that was done, a victory was all but assured. Jane’s gift was powerful but was limited to only one victim at a time. The other Denali sisters were confident that they could get to her without her harming anyone for more than a moment. Getting to Alec was the key.

The rest of their contingent was already engaging the handful of guard members who had returned with Jane and her gifted companions. The Lower Order had remained near the thrones to serve as additional decoys, but now they headed for the fray, Chelsea among them. Bella knew the moment that Demetri realized that she was coming after him. He widened his eyes momentarily, then narrowed them to match the calculating expression on his face. Seeing this only served to strengthen Bella’s determination to reach him. She dodged another of the guard as she flew past. Almost there. She heard Edward’s voice nearby, feeding information about Felix’s intentions to Emmett, Rose, and Seth as the four of them took on the fiercest of the Volturi fighters. 

Bella and Eleazar reached Demetri at nearly the same time. While she hurled herself at his midsection, Eleazar launched himself over her head and closed his hands around Demetri’s neck. The three of them crashed to the floor just as a piercing scream filled the air.

Bella knew that Jane would have time to use her talent even when under attack, so the screams were not unexpected. Still, she instinctively turned her head to locate the source. Although Jacob was not one of Jane’s attackers, she must have seen that he was part of the force going for Alec, who remained untouched, his arms extended. Jane stared at Jacob, who writhed and howled on the floor. Bella watched with growing horror as Leah fell to the floor near Jasper and Alice, her paws and hindlegs twitching in agony. From across the room, she could hear Seth yelping in pain. Her insides turned to ice when Edward shouted the words that both explained and predicted their doom.

“The pack mind!” 

And then, everything went still. 

For the second time in as many weeks, Bella found herself in Felix’s grip, only not so gently as before. His one arm held hers in place, and his other held her head in a way could easily become deadly. 

“Werewolves,” Jane hissed. 

“And traitors,” added Alec.

Bella had never witnessed Alec use his gift before, and now that she realized what had happened, she fully understood why Jasper had insisted they eliminate him first. Even though Edward had described Alec’s power to her, it was stunning to see everyone rendered powerless. Those still on their feet stood like statues, their eyes moving but clearly not seeing and their limbs hanging at their sides as if they were afraid to move them. As Jasper had explained it, they had the ability to move, but they’d be more likely to kill each other than anyone else without their senses available to them.

Though the Cullens and Denalis had moved like lightning with their synchronized attack, none of them had ever imagined that Jane would be able to take on more than one of them or that the pack mind would become a liability. Their failure to consider it had been a costly mistake, one that had clearly provided Alec the extra seconds necessary for his “fog” to incapacitate them. As it had spread rapidly through the room, everyone but Bella had stopped moving, even the other Volturi guard involved in the battle. At the last moment, Felix had lurched away from Emmett’s hold to avoid the creeping effect. When he saw that Bella was still aware and watching him, he had retrieved her quickly, using his brute force to drag her with him. She knew that Edward had been one of Felix’s opponents, and she tried to find him now but was unable to turn her head, immobilized as it was in her captor’s grasp. 

If she’d had the ability to move and hadn’t thought it might imperil her further, she would have spat on Demetri, who lay immobile under Eleazar. The Denali male had been a moment away from helping to end Demetri’s life, and with Eleazar’s hands still curled tightly around his neck, her nemesis probably didn’t dare move even if he were able to reason out where to go. 

“Get Demetri, Alec,” Jane commanded. 

Alec moved towards him, uncurling Eleazar’s fingers and yanking Demetri out from under his weight before leading him to Jane’s side. Bella wasn’t sure how temporary Alec’s gift might be, but it appeared that it was still completely under his control.

Freed of Alec’s influence, Demetri scanned the room, taking in the unmoving bodies and then directing his glare to Bella.

“Where’s Aro?” he demanded. 

Bella did not reply.

“Where. Is. Aro?” Jane’s anger was almost palpable.

The truth would only enrage them further, and things were bad enough. Bella remained silent as she considered her situation

“Fine. We’ve played this game before. We can play it again. Kill one of them, Demetri.” Jane looked towards the Cullens.

“With pleasure.” 

But Demetri didn’t move to the Cullens. He walked towards the members of the Lower Order, who hadn’t quite reached the battle but, like the Cullens, were senseless and still.

“You seem to favour my servant more than me,” Demetri said. He yanked an unresisting Erastus towards himself by the hair, putting his lips to her friend’s neck.

_No!_

“They’re dead!” Bella blurted out, hoping to forestall Demetri. “They’re all dead and burned.”

Demetri let Erastus go, shoving him back into the small semicircle.

Bella watched as anger distorted Jane’s face, a frown warping the young vampire’s lips into something sinister. “Even the guard?” Her eyes moved to Chelsea’s inert body, standing beside the Cullens.

“All of them,” Bella said firmly. She could at least make it clear that there would be no one else coming, no matter what happened now. 

Jane scanned the entirety of the room. “All of them,” she repeated softly. For a brief moment, Bella thought she saw something like sorrow in Jane’s expression as she continued, like a lost child, to let her gaze drift around the throne room. The moment was short lived. Jane straightened her shoulders suddenly as if she had come to some decision. 

“The penalty for their treachery is death,” Jane pronounced. “Demetri, kill them all. And you will begin with your would-be _mate._ ”

“No.” Demetri’s voice was firm as he eyed Bella. “Not her. She’s my price for helping you.”

Bella’s stomach became a block of ice.

Jane huffed a breath in and out. “A wasted price, a woman who hates you, but as you wish.”

“It is only a matter of time before that changes,” Demetri said as he walked towards Bella. 

She tried to flinch away when he ran his fingers down her cheek but was prevented by Felix’s iron grip.

“Any vampire’s will can be bent in time—we’ve proven that for centuries.” As Demetri pulled his hand away, he glowered at the small number of the Lower Order. “They’ve helped them, certainly.”

“Obviously.” Jane looked to the Cullens and the Denalis. “But our former servants are far less likely to kill us where we stand, and we may have need of them later. Get on with it. Then finish the wolves. Alec and I will make sure no one resists.”

Bella was frozen in place even though Felix had loosened his hold enough for her to watch the proceedings. Warned against any further struggle by Felix’s strength, she watched as Demetri walked towards his first target: Edward. Demetri turned his head to her and smiled. Of course he would begin with her mate. He wanted her to be forced to watch.

 _No_ , she thought. _No. This is not happening._

She’d been able to protect Erastus before. She’d protected Marcus from Jane. She’d been able to expand her shield as she walked through the halls. Why wasn’t it working now? 

With Edward’s back already to her, Demetri grasped him by the hair but did not turn him. “Would you like to say goodbye?” Demetri asked her. His tone was artificially civil. 

She nodded. She would agree to anything to give herself time to try to rescue Edward. She willed her arms to bubble, for that second skin to lift itself and spread and protect her family.

Nothing.

Demetri tightened his grip. “Quickly, my Bella.”

As it always did, the endearment made her boil with rage. She welcomed the feeling, waiting for her gift to manifest itself and free her mate. 

Still nothing.

She felt the panic as it rose up within her. _Was this it? Was this the way her world ended?_

In the centre of the room, Jane prowled around the Quileutes, still in their wolf forms. The childlike vampire was inspecting the massive bodies. “I see no reason why beheading them will not work.” She almost seemed to be speaking to herself. “They’re made of flesh. We’ll burn them to be certain.”

Had they come all this way to fail? A voice inside Bella was screaming _No, no, no!_ Her gift remained dormant, protecting only her. She was useless. Useless! Panic, rage, frustration, and shame—she was consumed by them all.

But as she looked at Edward, still held in place by Demetri, she watched in astonishment as he moved his body under his own power, slowly angling himself in Bella’s direction. As he lifted his head and faced her, she was struck by the realization that he could still _see_ her, even if his own eyes could not. Alec may have taken Edward’s senses, but he could not keep him from reading the minds around him; he could still see and hear Bella through the eyes and ears of their enemies. Even though he might be aware that his life was about to end, he’d elected to turn to her, to make sure that she was the last thing he faced in this world. She was as sure of this as she was of the reason for his choice; it was love. 

The thought overwhelmed her. If this was the end to her very short second life—because there was no way she would continue without Edward—then this was the end. She loved him, too, with everything she had. Even though she believed deep down that she’d never been good enough for Edward’s unwavering devotion, she loved him. He’d been right to want to keep her human and to try, sometimes unwisely, to protect her from this nightmarish world, but her foolhardiness had led them all here, to die when they had been so close to success. She had been offered the world, and what had she given in return? What could she give even now? 

She wondered if Edward had heard her somehow. Although his eyes were unfocused, they were fixed on her. Stunned, she watched as his lips moved, silently forming the words, “I love you.” Then he smiled his endearing, ridiculously lop-sided smile, and all the guilt she’d insisted on hanging onto dropped away.

“I love you,” she whispered back to him, for he had given her the answer she sought. Clearly, there was nothing to forgive for him, no sins for her to atone for. There was nothing left here at the end of everything but the love they shared. Freed of her perceived transgressions and useless self-blame, the shackles of her uncertainty fell away, and she fixed her gaze on Edward’s, willing her thoughts to reach him so that in his last sentient moment he would know what she felt for him—how deeply she loved him.

The sound of Jane shrieking broke her from her reverie. A whirl of motion in front of her caught her eye. 

Edward had ducked out of Demetri’s grasp and was speeding towards her.

Felix’s grip tightened, and Bella was forced to move backwards with him as he shuffled toward the door. Edward threw himself at Felix’s shoulder, bringing all three of them to the floor. Bella jerked herself free and flipped over to help Edward pin Felix. She inwardly cheered Edward on as his teeth tore into the man’s neck, and together both her mate’s hands and her own wrenched Felix’s head from his shoulders. 

Jacob’s panicked howling drew her attention next, and she realized she had dropped her shield at a crucial moment. The wolves were no longer protected. Jane stood at the far end of the room, again focusing her stare on the large wolf. In the space between Jane and Bella, Alec’s body lay in pieces. Tanya, Rose, and Esme stood over him, looking fierce and triumphant.

Emmett and Jasper each had a hold on Demetri. Alice sat on his shoulders with her arms wrapped around his head. If she hadn’t been snarling, the positioning would have looked like a comical party game. 

Focusing, Bella thought of Jacob and how much she loved her friend. She imagined her protection spreading over his body and Seth’s and Leah’s. The howling stopped. Opening her eyes, she focused again, using the same technique to cloak everyone in the room except for Demetri and Jane. Without her gift, Jane’s size and relative lack of fighting experience made her as helpless as a kitten. It became apparent that Bella was not alone in this realization, because Jane had snatched Erastus, whipping him around so that he leaned awkwardly back against her, her teeth at his neck.

Demetri was completely subdued and had tilted his head to the side in a gesture of surrender, at least for the moment. Alice left her perch on his shoulders and dropped to her feet beside him. Emmett and Jasper did not loosen their holds. The few remaining Volturi guard in the room had not resumed fighting, looking instead for guidance that was not forthcoming. 

“We’ll let you go, Jane,” Carlisle said, watching her carefully as he approached, “if you leave without harming anyone.”

_What?_

“No!” Edward’s voice was a low growl.

Bella whipped her head towards Carlisle, catching her own attention just in time before it slipped and left them unprotected again. 

“Is this the same deal you offered my brother?” Jane asked, her voice shrill with anger. 

Bella watched the woman’s hands tighten on Erastus’s head. She willed her power to do more than just protect him from Jane’s gift, knowing it was pointless but desperate to save her friend.

“She is at our mercy, Edward.” Carlisle said.

“She has a hostage.” Edward’s gaze was locked on Jane. “She also has no intention of surrendering to us. There is no need to offer any quarter.”

“By rights, as the last remaining member of the ruling class, everything has been left to me.” Jane’s tone was only slightly less autocratic than before as she appealed to Carlisle. “It should all be mine.”

“ _Ours_ ,” Demetri said, putting strong emphasis on the word. Bella realized that only Emmett stood watch over him now and that Jasper and Alice were sidling closer to Jane and Erastus.

Jane spared Demetri a look. “You would be useful, certainly, Demetri, so long as you are afforded the same offer by our . . . subduers.” She returned her gaze to Carlisle. “Is he?”

Edward growled again.

“Demetri’s fate has not yet been determined, ” Carlisle said, not directly contradicting his son’s sentiment.

The wolves were also inching closer and closer to Jane, tightening the circle of threats.

Jane hissed at them, her teeth still perilously close to Erastus’ throat. It was clear, as Edward had already informed them, that she had no intention of conceding.

“Enough.” Eleazar started toward Jane. “Release your hostage, Jane, or we will not negotiate further.”

Bella wasn’t sure if it was Eleazar’s words, Jasper and Alice’s approach, or the wolves moving ever closer that caused the misstep, but Jane suddenly shifted her grasp on Erastus, giving him an opportunity to break free. In desperation, Jane lunged again for her hostage, but Alice and Jasper were suddenly on her, wrestling her onto her knees before the two of them fiercely ripped her apart. Bella saw a member of the Lower Order hurry forward carrying a lighter and realized that it was Jane’s former servant.

As everyone’s focus was on Jane’s destruction, a commotion from where Emmett stood with Demetri made Bella startle. Whipping her head in their direction, she saw Demetri heading her way. “If you will not be mine, you will not be anyone’s!” Demetri growled and lunged for her. He was only a fraction of a second away, his clawed hands about to close around her neck, when the velocity of Erastus’s body hurtled into him, the two of them landing several feet away and giving Bella the moment she needed to regroup.

She watched in horror as Demetri smacked Erastus to the floor and brought his mouth to the man’s neck. She didn’t know who was screaming, “No!” She only knew that she was running towards Demetri, trying to understand how Erastus’s head could be so far from his body. At the same moment, she spotted Emmett coming from another direction, clearly heading for the same target. She was only dimly aware of Edward flashing past her, intercepting his brother and clearing her path as she sped forward, unable to think of anything but that this monster, who had made her life a living hell for so long, had just destroyed her gentle and beloved friend.

Flying at Demetri, she landed on his back, her teeth crunching into his foul neck and ripping it open. Again and again she tore at his flesh while he screamed in pain and frustration, and with each bite, her mind flicked through the cinematic horror show that had been Demetri’s treatment of her, Edward, and Erastus. Her prey was helpless to counter her frenzied actions, fueled as they were by her newborn strength and months of suppressed rage. She continued her frenzied assault on his body even after she had detached his head, tearing and biting until no limb remained attached to his torso. When she had finished shredding the remnants, she stood over her handiwork and growled, looking around her for a new challenge, another creature upon which to wreak her vengeance.

Her awareness of Edward’s presence rose slowly, increasing as her rage faded like a receding tide. 

“It’s all right, Bella,” Edward said, his tone soothing and soft. “It’s over. They’re all gone.”

She swept her gaze over the room, verifying Edward’s words for herself. She saw the members of her new family, their friends and hers, all some distance away, all unmoving and looking at her with wary eyes. The only exceptions to this were her brothers, who both wore approving smiles. 

“They’re gone,” she repeated.

“We’re safe.” Edward stepped closer, carefully easing himself to her side.

“Safe.” She repeated this word also. It was as if pieces of herself were coming back together, as if she’d split apart in the act of destroying Demetri. He had broken her before, and it felt as if he had done it once again. Forcing herself to look back at the pieces of Demetri’s body, she whispered, “I did that.”

“Yes, you did.” Edward’s tone suggested he was much prouder of her than she felt at the moment.

The peace that she’d thought would come with Demetri’s destruction was nowhere to be found. In its place was the horror of the deaths of so many she had once called friends.

Edward finally reached for her, and she went willingly into his arms as he pulled her close. “It’s all right.” He laid a kiss against her hair.

It was not all right.

But the man she loved was holding her, and they were both alive, and she could begin there.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended. But gosh I'm grateful I get to borrow all these characters so often :-)


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